Revolution
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: If there was one thing Negan was right about, it was that Clary Dixon was just one bad day away from being him. And he sure as hell didn't want that day to come. No one did. But it came, and Clary Dixon was not who she once was. She was the leader of the revolution. Until she lost everything.
1. Prologue: Stars

**Prologue: Stars**

 _ **Atlanta: Two Years Ago**_

I don't know where I am where I wake.

I know there's a fire nearby, the source of heat in the cool night. I know that I'm outside, as I opened my eyes to see the stars overhead. I know there are people around me, able to see a few out of my peripheral vision and able to hear their breathing.

I don't know if it's from the nightmare I had or the fact that I don't know where I am, but my heart starts to race. I push myself up, looking for my brother. I vaguely recognize faces, but I don't spare them more than a second's glance because they're not Daryl.

 _Where is he? Oh god, oh god, where is he?_

"Daryl?!" I question. I get no answer, starting to freak out even more as possible scenarios come crashing through my mind. The thought of anything happening to Daryl, anything at all, causes a lump in my throat that makes it difficult to breathe.

"Clary?" a voice questions. I get my hopes up at the voice, but they instantly fall when it's not one that I recognize as belonging to either of my blood brothers. "Clary?"

I turn, facing the person to my right. A young man, early twenties, eastern Asian. It all comes flooding back when I see his face, remembering where I am and everything that's happened. A camp on the outskirts of Atlanta, ten days since the shit hit the fan, six since I was separated from Daryl and Merle. I can't speak, not past the thickness in my throat or the racing of my heart. "Clary?" Glenn repeats.

He squints through the darkness, using the light of the moon and fire. He scrambles to his feet once he gets a good look at me. He kneels beside me, pulling me into his arms as I shake. I cling to him, using his shirt to anchor myself to this world. "Hey, hey, hey, shh," he murmurs. "It's okay, it's okay. You're okay. It's alright. Just breathe, Clary."

Glenn continues whispering to me, shushing me and reassuring me that it's okay. I close my eyes as I latch onto him, trying to reassure myself that he's real, that it's going to all be okay. Daryl, wherever he is, will be okay. He won't stop looking for me or fighting to get back to me because he wouldn't ever leave me. I manage to get my breathing under control, still clinging to Glenn as he cradles me in his arms. "C'mon," he tries. "Let's go for a walk, look at the stars. That'll calm you down, yeah?"

I nod, and Glenn pulls me with him to his feet. He keeps an arm wrapped around my shoulders as we walk, stopping by his car. Glenn sits on the hood, patting the space beside him and smiling softly at me when I sit beside him. He rests his hand on mine, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "You okay?" he questions.

"I…" I pause, searching for the answer. "I guess I gotta be."

"Clary."

"I'm okay, Glenn," I tell him, my voice steadier when I say it this time. I'm not, but I'll pretend I am. Fake it till you make it. "I'm okay, okay?"

"Okay," Glenn says with a small smile.

"'Maybe okay will be our always,'" I joke.

"Shut up," Glenn says. He shakes his head, elbowing me. I lay back on the hood, resting my head on my hands and staring up at the sky.

The sky is the blackest I've ever seen it, no longer having a glow in it from the city lights. No, the only lights in it are the ones lightyears away. Thousands of stars shine bright in the late summer night, the welkin glittering.

"Wow," I breathe. "It's so different here than in Bronwood."

"It's the same sky, Clary," Glenn replies.

"No, it's not the sky."

"Then what is it?" Glenn questions, joining me as he lies back on the hood.

"Everything," I answer. "But the stars? Just… wow. It really puts it into perspective, doesn't it? How small we really are? How each one of us are nothing but a tiny spec in the universe? How we're nothing but pawns in the grand scheme of things?"

"How we're all nothing but clumps of carbon orbiting a burning star that could one day die and kill us all?"

"If the dead don't get us first." I glance over at Glenn. "We're insignificant. Obsolete. The darkness in oblivion."

"Do you believe in an oblivion? Er, an afterlife."

"Atheist."

"Me, too. But if Hell was real, do you think…"

"That we're living it?"

"Yeah."

"My entire life has been nothing but a living hell. I just descended into the next circle." I sigh. "What a shitty fucking life. I can't help but wonder, though, if this is what my life was meant to be. If all this shit is just a part of my destiny." I sigh again. "And then, I lose what I care about."

Glenn says, "We can blame the stars, we can blame destiny, we can blame ourselves or each other. But how do we know what's _really_ to blame?"

"Jesus, if I talk about this anymore, I'm gonna have an existential crisis."

"Okay, okay, serious question," Glenn says, and I give him my full attention. "Aliens. Thoughts?"

"Area Fifty-One is fucking real and I'm gonna break into it now that the world has ended."

Glenn's eyes widen at my goal. "Yes, I love it," he breathes. "Let's do it."

"My second goal is Fort Knox. Go big or go home."

"I like the way you think. I'm down."

"We shall plan in the morning," I declare. "For now, I think you should get back to sleep."

"What about you?"

I give him a fake smile and for the second time tonight, I lie, "I'm good."

* * *

I barely spare Glenn a glance as he sits down beside me at the fire, the flames beginning to die now that it's morning and the temperature is beginning to rise. "Hey," Glenn greets.

"Morning, Short Round," I reply, turning my attention back to my bolts. While the others eat their breakfast, I get ready to hunt. I don't know how much I'll find, having a late start today after last night.

"Don't you think that's a bit racist?" the new girl questions. I glance up at her comment. It's the older of the two blonde sisters that joined our group yesterday. Andrea, I think her name is. "I mean, just because he's Chinese—"

"He's Korean," I interrupt before Glenn can correct her.

"Just because he's _Korean_ ," Andrea continues, "doesn't mean you can call him Short Round. I mean, that's, like, a stereotype, right?"

"Honestly, I'm just glad somebody knew that I was Korean and Not Chinese without me having to tell them," Glenn admits. I crack a grin, elbowing him. "What? And hey, _Temple of Doom_ is my favorite Indiana Jones movie. Clary knows pop culture and have graciously awarded me the nickname Short Round. Her nicknames are a privilege, and I wear mine with pride."

"You done now, Blondie?" I question. "If you don't mind, go back to your Ugg Boots and Starbucks while I clean my bolts."

Beside me, Glenn snorts, trying to hold back laughter. Carl doesn't even bother to hold it back, openly laughing at my statement. I turn to him, teasing, "What're you laughing at, Grimes? Don't you have a baseball game to go play? A barbecue in the cul-de-sac to attend?" At that, they laugh harder, even the normally quiet Carol joining in. "And you, too! C'mon, Carol, don't you have a bake sale? Sophia's soccer game? A PTA meeting?" By now, I have them all howling with laughter, even Shane chuckling. "Oh, I didn't forget about you, Robocop." I point at him with one of my bolts. "Don't you have some criminals to book, Danno?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Andrea gives. "Clary gives nicknames, Glenn's Korean, and Shane was a cop."

The others chuckle, going back to their breakfast. I load my crossbow, securing my extra bolts at one end. "Hey," Glenn repeats, nudging my shoulder with his. "You okay?"

"Me?" I question, finally looking up at him. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

I can feel everyone's prying eyes on me, intrusive curiosity waiting to know why I wouldn't be okay. I know why he's asking, and I appreciate it—but I don't show weakness. Especially not in front of strangers.

"Last night, you seemed really shaken," Glenn answers.

"Last night?" I question. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"What do you mean?" Glenn questions. "We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!"

"Nope, don't remember it, didn't happen," I return, though I wink at him to let him know I actually do remember.

Glenn creases his eyebrows before putting two and two together. I don't open up in front of people I don't trust, and Glenn is one of the few that I do. He throws his hands up in the air to exaggerate his sigh. "All that progress, gone! Down the drain! I'm done! I'm out!"

He gets up, walking away towards his car. I get up a few minutes later, following him. "Hey, man," I greet softly as I approach. "I, uh… thanks for that back there."

"You know, Clary, you don't _actually_ have to look tough all the time," Glenn says, glancing over his shoulder at me before I join him on the hood. "Or be tough, for that matter. We all know you miss your brothers. Clary, don't take this the wrong way when I say it, but… you've got some serious issues."

"Yeah, no shit, Short Round," I sigh. "When you got the kind of baggage I do… yeah, you got issues."

"Clary, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"That girl in room nine… did you know her?"

"No, why?"

"Well, the way you acted, it seemed like you did. Or she reminded you of someone. I don't know, maybe I'm not good at reading you yet. But what you did… how can you? How can you do something like that?"

"She was already bit, on her way out. I just pretended she was one of them."

"If… if I'm ever bit, will you do it for me?"

"Glenn, you ain't gonna get bit."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'll be there. I'll make sure you live, no matter what. I'll kill for you, Glenn, if I have to."

 _And I'll die for you, too. In a heartbeat._

* * *

 _ **Alexandria: Present Day**_

I'm breathing heavily as I open my eyes, brushing my hair back as I try to get my breathing under control. I slow my breathing enough for it to not be obvious that I was shaken by my dream, by the memory of how I promised Glenn that I'd make sure he lived, no matter what, and how I couldn't even do that. I slip out of my room, sticking close to the wall to avoid creaking the floorboards as I make my way down to Daryl's room.

He's asleep when I enter, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath. He looks so peaceful that I hate to disturb him, but I still cross the room to lie down beside him nonetheless. Daryl barely stirs when I slip under the duvet with him, acknowledging my presence by murmuring my name.

I hate to do it. I really do.

"Daryl?" I whisper. "Daryl."

"Hmm?" he questions, struggling to open his eyes as he looks down at me. "Hey. What's going on?"

"Can you hold me?"

"Yeah, yeah, c'mere." I curl up beside Daryl, practically laying on top of him as I rest my head on his chest. He starts to fall asleep before he jerks awake, glancing down at me. "I'm sorry, kid. I haven't slept in a while."

"It's okay," I whisper. "You go back to sleep. I just needed to feel you. I needed to know you're still here."

For someone that usually shies away from any form of contact, I'm a surprisingly touchy person. If I'm close to someone, I want some form of contact, just to reassure myself that they're there. That's why I'm usually holding Jesus's hand or standing next to Daryl with my shoulder brushing his bicep.

"Was it about him?" Daryl asks softly, gently, hesitantly. Unsure if he should.

"When we were first in Atlanta," I answer. "Please, Daryl, I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to. It's okay."

It's not. I'm not. Nothing is.

 _The world's gone to shit_ , as I said to Carl. The first thing I ever said to him. _Ain't nobody okay._

There was one more thing that I was going to say that day, but I bit my tongue. Now, with the first battle over and the rest of the war looming over us, I can't help but think of it again.

 _We're all gonna die._


	2. 1: One Day More

**Chapter 1: One Day More**

 _ **~Dwight~**_

Air hissing.

My head snaps up, finding a crossbow bolt sticking out of the rear tire of one of the motorcycles belonging to one of the other Saviors. A piece of paper is wrapped around its shaft. I pull the arrow out, unwrapping the paper. Written on it is a single word.

 _Tomorrow._

It's clearly a message from a Dixon, evident by the bolt. Probably from Daryl, because I don't recognize the handwriting. I check to make sure no one is watching before writing my reply, putting the paper back on the bolt and loading it into my crossbow. I spot Daryl in the distance, and I fire the bolt in his direction. He pulls it out of the wall, nodding once before taking off.

Tomorrow, Clary's war truly begins.

And she's bringing the battle to us.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

The team up was Carl's idea, and I didn't have a reason to say no. That's how I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of the van as Carl drives to the rendezvous point to meet Rick.

I've known Carl for so long that I know all of his mannerisms, each expression he wears, and what he says without speaking. He knows the best way to get me to open up is through music, and I haven't spoken a word to him all day. So Carl puts a mixtape in the CD compartment, pressing play. I recognize which one it is by the first song; "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins. I glance down at the case to confirm that it's the one I think it is; in Spencer's handwriting, the front reads "Mix #23." I shake my head, looking out the window instead. Carl knows that it's my favorite mixtape, consisting of Led Zeppelin, Twisted Sister, and Joan Jett, among others.

Any other time, I would've been belting out the words with him. I remain silent, staring out the window. Carl sings along, elbowing me to try to get me to join in.

I don't. Not even when "Black Dog" plays.

"Alright," Carl says with a sigh, turning the radio off. "You're awfully quiet. That's unnerving for someone like you. Don't you have something to communicate in your Dixon caveman grunts?"

"I'm alright," I reply, then turn to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want that in caveman?"

Carl snickers, shaking his head. "In all seriousness, though—you're quiet. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Carl prompts.

I sigh softly. "One day more to revolution. One day more but not a day closer to killing Negan."

"You don't know that," Carl tells me. "One day more, and he might be dead. At your hands. Isn't that what you wanted, Dixon?"

"It's, uh, it's Raleigh."

"What?"

"I kinda-maybe-sorta went off on Gregory 'cause he kept getting my name wrong." Carl gives me a look. "Okay, so I threw a bottle of tequila at him 'cause he pissed me off. He threatened Jesus. What was I supposed to do?"

Carl proposes, "Murder him? Cut out his tongue?"

"Christ, someone's violent today," I say.

"Iron?"

"Carl."

"Tie him to a tree and leave him for walkers?"

"Carl, no."

"Carl yes." I stare at him for a second, and Carl smirks. "The tables have turned, haven't they?"

I shake my head at him, knowing that Carl wasn't serious when he was offering punishments. "Anyways, I said my name was Clary Raleigh, but the funny thing is, it just doesn't sound right. It's like there's two sides to me now. There's Clary Dixon, the leader of the revolution. And then there's Cheyenne Raleigh, and that's who I am at home."

"So who are you now?" Carl questions.

I shrug. "I'm whoever I gotta be."

"You know who I think you are?"

"Who?" I ask.

"You're Clary. You're not Clary Dixon, leader of the revolution; and you're not Cheyenne Raleigh, the sweetheart hidden under the anger."

"Hey, I am _not_ a sweetheart."

"Yeah, you are," Carl argues. "My point is, you're _Clary_. Just Clary. You're the Clary that I knew before we were even at the prison, the Clary that I knew at the prison, and the Clary that I knew before Negan. You're who you've always been. The only difference is now you have a title, a right hand man, and an entire militia standing with you. You, Clary, you're the one that brought us all together. You're the one that's connecting us. You're the one that they'll follow anywhere. And me? You're my best friend. Hell yeah, I'll follow you anywhere. It's not like I haven't already been doing that for two, three years."

The faintest smile appears on my lips, the corners just barely turning up. I tease, "I like Jesus more than you."

Carl glances over at me, feigning offense when he realizes that I'm joking. "Wow. And here I thought we were having a bonding moment." Carl reaches for the radio, then pauses. "Will you actually sing along this time?"

"Wait, Carl, wait," I say, stopping him before he can press play.

"Everything okay?" Carl questions, pulling his hand away.

"I, uh, I got something I gotta say to you." Carl gestures for me to continue. "Ever since that night I led the attack against the Saviors, I've treated you like shit. You don't deserve that. I said a lotta shit that I would give _anything_ to take back. I'm really sorry, for everything that I've done to you. I don't deserve to have someone like you on my side."

"No, you don't," Carl agrees, not taking his eye off the road. "But I'm here anyway. You're my best friend, and even though we fought, that's not changing. You don't deserve me, but I'm with you."

I let out a soft chuckle, barely audible. "Did… did I ever tell you that, if I had the chance to go back and do it again, I would've taken that bullet for you without even a _second_ of hesitation? Just so it wouldn't happen to you?"

"Which one?" Carl asks, glancing over at me.

"Both of them," I answer. "At the same time, if I had to. I'd take anything for you."

"Now that's love," Carl deadpans. "Uh, I, uh, I mean—"

"I know what you mean, Carl," I tell him, and I do. We're still family; that hasn't changed.

"Listen, what you told me that night before Sasha… Clary, no matter what we do, I'm in danger. We're all in danger. Hell, everything is dangerous. Anything could kill you. A walker, a fire, a determined raccoon. And with all the more you hunt, there's probably some Liam Neeson in _Taken_ -esque raccoon out there that wants revenge."

"Carl."

"Right, sorry. Point is, whether we're right beside each other or I'm fifty miles away, I'm still in danger. Rick is my father, that's not changing. I still love you, that's not changing. So why not just say fuck it and stick together, you and me?"

I pause for a moment. "The other guy I slept with is dead, and I didn't give a shit about him. You don't give a shit about Enid—not romantically, anyway. So yeah, maybe you and me could start over?"

"Fuck that," Carl says, and my spirits instantly fall. "We're skipping straight to the 'I love you's."

I can't help but laugh, nodding. "But maybe we should wait a little while before we tell the others. Especially before Ezekiel knows anything." I glance over at Carl. "I want you to know, Benjamin was nothing to me but a pawn. I only slept with him 'cause I thought Ezekiel would listen to him and join us then. I was wrong. I've been wrong before. I said we'd be safe 'cause the only Saviors were the ones at the satellite outpost, but that's what it was—an outpost. And now here I am, leading them into the rebellion all the while knowing that some of them won't make it out. I told Glenn so many times that I'd never let anything happen to him, and then I was the one that caught him when he fell." My fingers brush over my cheek where it was once painted red. "I can still feel it. His blood."

"I can still see it, hear it," Carl adds. "I overheard him and Maggie one time, talking about names. They decided that, if it's a girl, her name's gonna be Clarissa Beth."

I let out a soft chuckle. "Not Beth Clarissa?"

"They said it flows better. It does."

"We'll call her Beth for short."

"Good. Last thing we need is _two_ Clarys running around. Oh God, the horror."

"Hey!"

"I'm joking," Carl assures me, then reaches for the radio. "You ready to rock, Dix?"

I grin, telling him, "Hit it, maestro."

" _She's so rock steady—bam-ba-lam  
_ _And she's always ready—bam-ba-lam  
_ _Whoa, Black Betty—bam-ba-lam  
_ _Whoa, Black Betty—bam-ba-lam"_

* * *

"Hi."

At the single word, spoken by an unknown voice, Carl drops the gas can he was carrying; and we instantly go back to back, guns drawn.

"I'm okay," the voice rushes. "I mean…" The stranger pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts. Carl holds his gun with one hand, the other arm keeping me close to him in case this stranger is dangerous. "I've been shot at. Someone threw a microwave at me, so I'm just gonna say something my mom used to say and hope for the best here. 'Whatever you have of good, spend on the traveller.'"

Carl looks over his shoulder at me, and I gesture for him to go one way. He nods, and we split up, searching for the unknown stranger.

"My mom said that helping the traveller, a person without a home, that's _everything_ ," he continues. "I'm sure you've seen things. Been through things. You don't trust people. I get it. I get it. I don't either."

I keep Carl within sight, glancing over as he takes off his hat as he kneels to peer underneath a car. I let a small grin come to my lips—he's learning his way around this world, learning to search for threats the smart way.

"I've been through things, too," the stranger says. "My mom, she also said that may my mercy prevail over my wrath. It's not all my mom. That one, that's from the Quran. I probably shouldn't have said that. I don't even know you, but I… I haven't eaten in a few days. You might not even be real."

Carl scrambles to his feet, and I know he's found him. I rejoin him as we take off for where Carl saw the stranger. We dart around the back of a van, and Carl already has his gun on him, barking, "Hands up!"

He throws his hands in the air, and I quickly follow Carl's lead. The stranger rushes, "Listen, I'm gone. It's cool. I just wanted… even just some food."

I glance at Carl before looking back at the stranger. I start, "How many—"

Before I can even get the first question out, a gunshot rings out nearby. A second shot is fired, and the stranger takes off running away. I see Rick running forward, stopping where the stranger had been seconds before and firing a third shot into the air. Carl and I start forward, joining him as he lowers his gun.

"We were supposed to meet at the intersection," he says, turning to look at us. When he sees the way we're looking at him, incredulous that he just shot at a complete stranger that had meant no harm. "I shot over his head. I just wanted him gone."

As if that makes it all okay.

Carl starts, "He said that he—"

"I heard what he said," Rick interrupts. "Most of it. He could've been one of them."

Carl says, "Like a spy?"

"Dwight would've told us if Negan had a spy," I argue. "I trust him, and his word."

"He said he wouldn't fire if you aimed to the sky," Carl returns.

"D told me he didn't mean to shoot. He didn't realize I had aimed to the sky until it was too late. But that's not what we need to talk about. Look, Dwight knows everything that Negan knows, and he's told us. He doesn't have a problem selling out Negan."

"Then you know how dangerous spies can be!" Rick exclaims. He sighs, seeing that neither of us are backing down. "I shot over his head."

"Congratulations," I deadpan. "I'll call the Nobel Committee."

"Look, if he isn't one of them, I hope he makes it," Rick sighs.

Carl shakes his head, taking my hand and leading me away. "It's not gonna be enough, Dad."

"Enough what?"

Carl picks up his hat, putting it back on his head before pausing. "Hope."

I hear Rick sigh behind us, and I squeeze Carl's hand. "C'mon, Cowboy," I say. "Let's just get outta here."

Carl and I continue walking, the can of gas in Carl's hand. "Hey!" I hear Rick call behind us, running to catch up. "Hey! Hey! What does that mean?"

"What I said," Carl replies, not looking at his father as he joins us. "You _hope_ the guy makes it, it's not enough. If you give a shit—"

"Carl," Rick scolds.

"Are you fucking shittin' me?" I question. "It's the end of the motherfucking world. Let your kid curse."

"Clary."

"If you _care_ ," Carl says, "you'd do something. You don't just… hope. It takes more than that. That's what I meant. There's gotta be something after the fight's over."

"Not for everyone," Rick growls, clearing referring to Negan.

"Okay, yeah, but what about you? What about all of us in Alexandria, the other communities? There's gotta be something, something more than hope. That's just how it's gotta be."

Rick tries to hide his scoff, and I question, "What, you don't think there should be something after?"

"Not for the Saviors, at least," Rick replies. "What's your plan, that we're just gonna be out there picking strawberries with Negan?"

"No," I retort. "It's war, Rick. It ain't gonna be Kumbaya, I know that. But there are people there in that building that deserve an after." Rick shakes his head. "What about the ones like Dwight, huh? What about the workers and the people enslaved like Daryl was?"

"If there were more like you say Dwight is, you don't think they would've come to us? I don't even _know_ how you can trust Dwight! How the hell do you know that he won't turn on us in the middle of the battle?!"

I spin, stopping Rick before he can take another step. I may not come close to his height, but I make myself known as I hiss, "Dwight bent the knee and pledged his fidelity, to _me._ He is with me. He follows _me._ Don't doubt my men."

Rick blinks in surprise, and I back off, having made my point. I turn back around, taking Carl's hand again and continuing on. Rick doesn't follow this time, and I call over my shoulder, "Don't wait for us! Carl and I are gonna hit a few places, see what we can find."

Carl and I walk in silence back to the van, and he opens the side door, putting the gas can in. He suddenly chuckles, looking at me over his shoulder. "'Bent the knee.' Really?"

"What?" I question. "He did! He knelt to swear allegiance."

"No, that's not it," Carl laughs, turning to face me. "The way you phrased it. What is this _, Game of Thrones_?"

"Well, he is the Hound, physically speaking. Swore an oath, too."

"Can you swear something to me?" Carl asks, serious now. I give a nod. "Promise me that no matter what happens tomorrow, you won't die."

"That's not something I can control, Carl," I say.

"No, it is. When it comes to you, that's something you have control over. I'm tired of you nearly killing yourself doing stupid shit, trying to sacrifice yourself for everyone else. Just _once_... put yourself first."

If I don't choose my words carefully, I know this could turn into another argument. The worst part for me, though, is that I know that Carl's right. Instead of arguing, I order, "Get in the van."

"What?" Carl asks, surprised by the sudden change.

"I said, get in the van."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're pissing me off so now we're gonna have angry make up sex, that's why," I say, pushing him back inside. I climb in, closing the side door. I push Carl onto his back, climbing on top, as I lean down to kiss him. Carl winds his fingers into my hair, and when I pull back to take a breath, he whispers, "I love you."

I grin down at him as I pull his shirt off, then mine. I kiss him again, gentler this time, before replying, "I love you more _."_

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

I stand awkwardly by as my dad and Michonne kiss goodbye, meeting Clary's eyes from where she stands with her dads. She makes a face at me, a moment of a childish side I sometimes forgets she has shining through, despite what's about to happen. I have to hide my laughter behind my hand, and Dad steps away from Michonne.

He takes my hat off my head, wrapping me in a hug. He holds me tightly for a moment before pulling back and placing what was once his hat back upon my head. Dad promises, "This is the end of it."

"I know," I tell him. It might not end right away, but what happens today will cause the end of the Saviors. Dad steps away, and I hear Clary tell Aaron and Eric, "I'll be right back."

I open my arms, and Clary smiles softly as she goes in for the hug. I hold her tightly, Clary resting her chin on my shoulder. "This is it," Clary says. "This is the end of it all. The revolution begins and ends today."

"Kick it in the ass," I tell her. I close my eye, whispering, "Come home, babe."

"I love you, Carl," Clary whispers in reply.

"I love you, too." I squeeze her hand as she pulls back, looking into her eyes as I repeat, "Come home."

"I'll come home," Clary promises me. She starts to lean forward, then, as soon as she realizes it, she jerks back, dropping my hands and blushing. We haven't told the others that we're back together yet (though Eric's figured it out because he caught her sneaking out to come see me the other night, which means Aaron and Daryl also know). "I, uh, I gotta go. I got a revolution to lead."

"You know what? This could be the last time I ever see you. Fuck it." I take Clary's face in my hands, kissing her. I release her after a moment. "Good luck, babe. Kick some ass for me."

"Ten-four, Cowboy," Clary says with a mock salute and a grin, climbing in the backseat of Aaron and Eric's car. I step back, watching them leaving and watching Michonne. I tell her, "I know you wanted to go with him."

"And I know you wanted to go with her," Michonne returns. I open my mouth to argue, but Michonne cuts me off. "I can see it. From both of you. You love each other, but you did hurt her."

"I know."

"You _did_ tell her to never come home, but I know you've made for it and everything else," Michonne continues, rambling absentmindedly. "You did have that quick little thing with Enid. I mean, I know you're definitely not with her anymore, but—"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I watched Clary sneak out of your window last night while I was outside with a _very_ fussy Judith. Clary was wearing _your_ shirt. And she has a hickey on her collarbone."

I freeze, unable to argue. "I wanted to go." Michonne raises an eyebrow at my sudden and unsubtle topic change. "You wanted to go, too."

"Everything hurts," Michonne says, still healing from her fight with the Scavenger. "But I will help you defend this place."

I raise an eyebrow. "What, me?"

"Oh, yeah. This is your show." I scoff, shaking my head. "Okay. We'll see."

"About what?" I question.

Michonne only smirks.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

One by one, my soldiers arrive. My right hand man stands at my side, a green band wrapped around his bicep, with a white one below it. Jesus wears green for the Hilltop, and white for Alexandria. "White for _you,_ " he corrected me when I first noticed. I nod hello to Dianne, the archer from the Kingdom, as she passes, bow on her shoulder and orange around her bicep.

Jesus accompanies me as I walk through our ranks, catching sight of Aaron holding Eric's hand as he prays and Enid and Jerry debating about something. As we get closer, I see that Jerry is offering Enid his arm guard to wear as a chestplate. "No thanks," she tries to tell him. "I'm going back with Maggie after."

"Dude, sternum," Jerry insists. She shakes her head again. "Duuuuude."

"If you won't take it, I will," I say, plucking it out of Jerry's hands. I hold it up to my chest, and Jesus snickers when he sees that it covers it. "Oh, shut up. I'm tiny, but I can and will kick your ass." I toss the armor to Enid. "Take it, E."

"What about you?" Jerry questions. "I got another one, you know."

"I'm good," I tell him. "An arm guard ain't gonna do me much good where I'm goin'."

Jerry takes his remaining arm guard off nonetheless, holding it out for me. I hesitate, and Jerry says, "C'mon, dude. I already took it off. Duuuude."

"Fine," I give in with a sigh. "Listen, though, next time I'm at the Kingdom? I'm getting actual armor."

"Yes, ma'am," Jerry acknowledges. I take his arm guard, putting it on as Jesus and I walk to meet the other leaders of the communities. Ezekiel glances down at me, chuckling softly. I tell him, "Jerry was very insistent. Alright, it was more to get him to stop saying 'dude.'"

Ezekiel laughs, the sound fading as Rick and Maggie reach us. Rick asking Maggie, "You sure you're up to this?"

"I got Hilltop to stand against the Saviors," she replies. "I need to be there. At least, for the first part. They say you can wage war through the second trimester." I chuckle, knowing that with Maggie's determination, she'd be trying to wage war through the third trimester, too. "I've been fighting since the farm. Can't stop now."

"God, that feels like a lifetime ago," I say. "So much time has come and gone."

Rick questions, "How about tomorrow?"

"You been thinking about what that looks like?" Maggie inquires.

"For the first time, I'm thinking _past_ tomorrow," I say.

"I never thought I'd hear that," Maggie says with a small smile, then looks up at Rick. "And you? You thinking about tomorrow?"

"Yes, I have," Rick answers. "I don't know if I can wait for it."

"Just one more fight," Maggie assures him. "And I'm gonna be there. At least for the first part."

"I'm told the Hilltop lost their doctor," Ezekiel chimes in. "An obstetrician, no less. We have a doctor in the Kingdom. A woman of talent. Join us."

"We'll get ours back," Jesus tells him.

Ezekiel chuckles. "Yes, Jesus. Yes, you will. As sure as the day defeats the night, and on this day, we begin to reshape this world for your child and the children to come. So let's get started."

Ezekiel takes off, and I look at Jesus as I deadpan, "I ain't ever gonna get used to Henry V over here."

Jesus chuckles. He falls into step beside me as I follow Ezekiel, asking, "You ready?"

"Why not?" I return. "We're already dead, right?"

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

The leaders of each of the communities stand on the flatbed of one of our armored trucks, each one with a color wrapped around their bicep, designating their community. The volunteers from each community, volunteers turned soldiers, circle the flatbed. Each of us knows what today will bring, but at the same time, we're not prepared. We've been trained and we know how to fight, but none of us have ever fought in a war. Not like this.

Clary steps forward from the leaders, proclaiming, "They say every one of our fighters are worth a dozen of Negan's. You think they're right?"

She gets a chorus of "hell yeah"s.

"We die today, my brothers and sisters. We die bleeding from a hundred wounds with arrows in our necks, knives in our guts, and bullets in our heads. But our war cries will echo through eternity! They will sing about our war until Alexandria's walls have fallen and the last walker's dead! Every man, woman, and child will know who we were and how long we stood! Alvaro and Jerry; Jesus and Daryl; Enid and Tara! Our warriors will cry out our names as they charge the Sanctuary and the outposts!"

"Hell yeah!" the crowd shouts.

"Mothers will name their children for us!"

I look back and forth between Aaron and Daryl, whispering, "Isn't this Theon's speech from _Game of Thrones_?"

"It's the only one she knows," Daryl replies.

"What? I've seen her make speeches up on the fly."

Aaron shrugs, offering, "She's not the best at… motivating people. She can threaten and scare people like nobody's business, but pep talks? Yikes."

"What is dead may never die!" Clary shouts.

Aaron, Daryl, and I, along with the rest of the soldiers, echo, "What is dead may never die!"

"We are the walking dead," Clary says, echoing her speech from the first battle. "And the Saviors, it might not have hit 'em yet. But they're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

Daryl smirks, calling, "Find out what?"

Clary and Rick share a look, and Rick answers, "They're fucking with the wrong people."

"The Saviors don't own us!" Clary declares. "They don't own this world. This is _our_ world."

"When I first met him, Jesus said that my world was about to get a whole lot bigger," Rick says, nodding once to me. "Well, we found that world. We found each other. That bigger world is ours by right. And if we've come together for it, all of us, it's that much more true. It's _ours_ by _right!_ Any person who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground, it's their right, too. But those who use and take and kill to carve out the world and make it theirs alone, we end them!"

Rick's audience acknowledges him with shouts of agreement.

"We don't celebrate it. We don't have shame about it, either. There's only one person who has to die, and I _will_ kill him myself. _I will._ I will. The others who prop him up, stand by his side, even those who just look the other way, so be it. Then, we keep making the world bigger. Together."

"Together," Ezekiel echoes. "Bound forever! To quote the Bard, 'For he today that sheds his blood with me—'" Ezekiel places a hand on Rick's shoulder. "'—shall be my brother.'" Ezekiel steps away from Rick, placing a hand on both Clary and Maggie's shoulders. "For she today, my sister."

Shive roars, sending up her own cheer for her king.

"We've practiced," Maggie says. "We've been through it over and over again. We all know the plan doesn't end this morning, that we may have to live in uncertainty for days, maybe more. That we have to keep our faith in each other. If we can hold onto that with everything we have, the future is ours. The world is ours."

"Today is the day the fight begins," Clary says. "And then, it's just one day more to the next world. To the new world, to the one that is _ours._ To the one that we make. To the one that our children, and our children's children, will inherit. Because we fought for them. We fight for each other!" She looks at Ezekiel. "For our brothers—" Clary looks to Maggie. "—and our sisters. We fight for our right to tomorrow!"

Rick declares, "If we start tomorrow right now, with everything we've beaten, everything we've _endured_ , everything we've risen above, everything we've _become!_ If we start tomorrow _right now_ , no matter what comes next, we've won. We've _already_ won!"

Clary jumps down off the flatbed, standing level with her soldiers. "This fight right here," Clary shouts, walking in a circle around the flatbed to look at everyone. "This fight right now! This is our fight to win! This is our chance to show the whole goddamn world what we're made of! Now is the time to seize the day! The Saviors don't know it, but the revolution is coming. _We are coming._ We are coming for them! We will show them exactly _who the fuck we are!_ We will show them that they're fucking with the wrong people! And _no one_ will _dare_ think of fucking with us _ever_ again!" Daryl and I kneel as she reaches us, hoisting her up above everyone on our shoulders. Clary shouts, "And the revolution starts right damn now!"


	3. 2: Welcome to the Madness

**Chapter 2: Welcome to the Madness**

 _ **~Clary~**_

"And three… two… one," I say. I look up from my watch just as Dwight turns to go back inside the Sanctuary, turning a blind eye as the two lookouts on the roof drop dead. "Alright. It's go time."

I raise my arm, waving it in a circle before climbing back in the car. We move out, pulling our armored vehicles up in front of the Sanctuary's entrance. Quickly, we move into position, with Rick, Maggie, and I at the head of the group. Once we're all there, Maggie raises her hand in the air. Everyone raises their guns, aimed up at the windows.

Maggie brings her hand down.

At once, we all fire. A symphony of bullets breaks through the windows of the uppermost levels of the Sanctuary. Four shots each from everyone later, the Sanctuary falls silent, save for the growling of the walkers chained to the fences. We made our presence known, and now we wait. We get ready, guns on shoulders.

Moments later, the door opens; and he steps out.

 _Negan._

"Knock knock," I say, unable to help myself. "Sorry about the windows. Dreadful etiquette, I know."

"Well, _shit_ ," Negan drawls. "I'm sorry. I was in a meeting." I lean around the sheet of metal, waiting to see with Saviors file out after Negan. Dwight and Simon, of course, along with Eugene. There's a girl I don't recognize, but I know the other guy is Gavin—the one in charge of the tribute from the Kingdom. "I see you got your little mud flaps with you. So I'm not exactly feeling a reason for us to try throwing lead at each other. I care about my people. I don't want to just march them into the line of fire 'cause I want to play My Dick Is Bigger Than Yours. It is. We both know it. But I'm also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn't. But I'm certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit. Like you're about to."

Aaron looks at Eric and I, and I glance at him, giving the smallest shake of my head. _It won't be that easy._

"So Rick," Negan continues, "and my favorite spunky little badass, Clary, what the hell can I do for you two?"

"Dwight," I call. "I still got a duel to finish with you."

"Your name's Simon," Rick adds, pointing to Negan's second.

"You're Gavin," I say. "Your man killed my friend."

"And you—"

"Regina," the Savior supplies.

Eugene starts, "Rick, I'd feel remiss if—"

"No," Rick says. "We know who you are. Listen, you five, the Saviors inside, all of you have a chance to survive here. To survive this. Y'all can live _if_ you surrender."

"We can't guarantee it any time but now," I tell them. " _Right now."_

Not a single one of them moves, and I lock eyes with Dwight. He knows that the one-time offer doesn't apply to him—he's helping us, so I'm giving him a free pass when it's over.

"So they surrender," Negan starts, "and you and your little piss patrol doesn't kill 'em. That sounds like a good deal! What about me, Rick?"

"I told you," Rick reminds him. " _Twice._ You know what's gonna happen."

"I do," Negan confirms. "I do know what's gonna happen. But you don't! You have no idea the shit that's about to go down. Let me ask you something, Rick. You think you have the numbers for this fight?"

"It's not about the numbers!" I exclaim. "It _never_ has been! It's been about our spirit! Our will to fight! That's what's won in the past! That's how we'll win!"

"You think you can beat us, kid?" Negan questions.

"I _know_ we can! And I know we will! We've got nothin' to lose, and you have everything!"

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Negan says. "Simon."

Simon disappears inside, emerging a second later with Gregory in tow. Maggie turns to look at Jesus with a look of annoyance, and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Of course that's where he went," Jesus sighs.

Negan brings Gregory to the railing beside him, questioning, "What do you have to say to Rick and the Piss Patrol, Gregory?"

"The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviors," he declares. "Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary or any of the Saviors for that matter, they will no longer be welcomed in the colony."

Negan smiles before prompting, "And?"

"And their families will be thrown out, will be left to fend for themselves."

"And?"

"Go home now!" Gregory commands. "Or you won't have a home to go back to!"

No one moves for a moment, and I look to the leader of the Hilltop, questioning, "Mags?"

Maggie looks around the soldiers from the Hilltop, telling them, "You do what you need to do. We'll understand."

"All I have at the Hilltop is a bunch of books and an old lobster bib," Jesus says, causing Maggie to smile, then nods towards me. "I got you here."

I dip my head, nodding my thanks.

"You heard the man," Negan calls. "Go back to separating wheat and shit, or whatever the hell it is you people do."

"What they do," I shout, "is aid a revolution!"

"Doesn't look like anyone's going, does it?" Maggie calls.

Gregory repeats, "The Hilltop stands with—"

"The Hilltop stands with Maggie!" Jesus interrupts in a shout. "And she and the rest of us stand with Clary!"

Gregory turns to look at Negan, and Simon steps in, shoving him back a step. "I feel like I invested a lot in you," Simon growls, prodding his finger in Gregory's chest and forcing him to back up. "And I am very, _very_ disappointed!"

Gregory has reached the stairs, grabbing for the railing as Simon is still in his face. He suddenly shoves the former leader of the Hilltop, Gregory letting out a shout as he falls down the stairs. There's an explosion in the distance, and that's when the reality of it all sets in. There is _no_ going back. This madness is the only way forward.

"Sounds like shit is going down," Negan observes.

"You lieutenants," I shout. "You're gonna have to make up your minds."

"Maybe we could take a time out here?" Gavin suggests.

"No," Rick objects. "This has to happen now."

I add, "This is the _only_ way."

"You're gonna make me count?" Rick calls after we get no reply, and I smirk as he throws Negan's words back at him. "Okay. Okay! I'm counting! Ten! Nine! Eight! Sev—"

I shout, " _Fire!"_

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

"It sounds like it started," Carol says.

"It was always gonna be this way," I reply. "Clary was right. All out war was our only option." I glance down at the gun in my hands as I lean back against my motorcycle. "I just hope she makes it."

"Oh, come on!" Tara says. "Have you met her? All she does is kick ass! She'll be fine." She picks up her rifle as the walkers near. "Well, pleasure doing business with you."

"Beat 'em," Morgan adds, startin to follow Tara. "Oh! Daryl!" I turn to him at my name, and Morgan extends a note for me to take. "I think you should be the one to give that to Clary. It's from Benjamin."

I glance down at the letter, addressed to Clary. I don't tell him that with Carl and Clary back together and Benjamin dead, she wants to forget that little fling ever happened. Instead, I nod, putting the letter in my pocket. "Will do."

Morgan nods, then follows Tara into their car. Carol turns to me, wrapping me in a hug so tight I can't help but wonder if she thinks this is the last time we'll ever see each other. She rests her chin on my shoulder as I hug her back, careful of the assault rifle over her shoulder. Carol softly says, "Be careful."

"Shit, this is gonna be fun," I say as we break apart.

Carol glances back at the walkers before she argues, "No, it isn't."

"Yeah, but I get to blow shit up."

Carol chuckles, shaking her head. "All you Dixons are the same. 'Hey, let's blow shit up. Look! I have a rocket launcher! Oh, time to quote some '80s movie!'"

"Stop," I say. I glance down at the ground, the gravity of the situation suddenly weighing on me. "This is better than letting things be though." I look back up at Carol. "Right?"

"Yeah, it is." Carol starts to walk off, then pauses and glances back at me. "Be careful, pookie."

"Stop," I say with a chuckle, shaking my head at her. "Get out of here."

Carol disappears into the distance, and I climb on my motorcycle after checking my gun. Six bullets, six bombs. Gotta make every shot count. I climb on my motorcycle, letting the walkers get a little closer before taking off.

I lead them down the road, counting down my bullets and bombs as I travel closer to the Sanctuary. The bombs explode behind me as I shoot them, drawing as many walkers to the herd as possible, as well as getting the attention of any other walkers in the immediate vicinity.

The last bomb is ahead of me, and I fire. The sound gets the attention of the walkers, allowing me to slip away. I take one road, the other leading to the Sanctuary. The walkers continue on, draw by the gunfire. _They're on their way. Just get out before they're there,_ I silently pray. _Please, Clary. Please._

* * *

 _ **~Gabriel~**_

With Clary's order, all hell breaks loose.

The lieutenants duck back inside, but the gunfire has cut Negan off from the door. In his rush to find cover, I see him jump down the other set of stairs, but we continue on with the plan, firing at the windows. "Now!" Maggie shouts.

Some of our people continue to provide cover, while the rest climb in their cars. They lay on the horns, drawing the attention of nearby walkers, as if they weren't already being drawn by the gunfire. Rick chases after Negan, staying covered and firing at him. Aaron and Eric take off for their car, Clary across the courtyard, chasing after Negan with Rick. "Clary!" Aaron shouts.

"We gotta go!" Andy from the Hilltop tells them as he runs for his car. "Get out of here!"

"Just go!" I tell them. "I'll get Clary! You two get out!"

"Get her out!" Eric barks, climbing in the car with Aaron. They take off, following everyone else that's leaving. I climb in the RV, laden with explosives. I start it up, pressing on the gas pedal to get it rolling. I put it in neutral, letting it continue to roll.

I jump out the back window, taking cover behind one car. Rick and Clary duck behind another, bullets ricocheting off the metal. I look over to Rick, nodding. We all cover our heads as he presses the button, detonating the bomb inside the RV.

It explodes, momentarily engulfing the courtyard in a ball of fire. When the fire dissipates, only the metal covering the front of the RV like an iron mask is left of the vehicle, burnt walker bodies and collapsed fences lining the courtyard.

Rick still continues firing, and I see Negan struggling to get to his feet, his bat still in hand. He limps forward, taking cover behind the RV's metal skeleton. Rick fires, trying to get a lucky shot through the hull. He wastes bullets, the scarce resource ricocheting off of the metal.

"Rick!" I shout, trying desperately to get his attention. "Rick! Rick! Rick, he's not going anywhere! We have to leave now!" I reach forward, resting my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Rick simply shoves me off. "Hey! It's about you. It's not about you."

Rick nods, and he drags Clary with him as they take off for his truck, Rick only pausing to take a picture of the burning courtyard. They take off, and I climb in my car as the herd of walkers approach.

"Hey!" I hear a voice shouting. "Wait! Hey, hey, hey! No, wait!"

"Shit," I curse, recognizing Gregory across the courtyard. I can't just leave him to die. I glance over my shoulder at the walkers, then check to make sure I still have bullets. I get out, firing up at the Sanctuary as I make my way towards Gregory. We duck down behind rubble together, and I tell him, "I can take you out of here. We just have to wait for our moment."

Gregory nods. "Thank you, Father."

"Thank God," I tell him.

"Sure, whatever." Bullets hit the rubble above us. "I did what they said, I talked! Why are they firing at me?!"

They fire at my car, and Gregory looks at it before back at me. I tell him, "Wait." He scrambles to his feet anyway, running for the car. "Hey! Hey! Wait! Wait!"

Every time I try to get up, the Saviors force me back down. Gregory gets in my car, starting it up and driving off, leaving me behind at the Sanctuary.

Well, I guess I should've seen that coming.

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

I'm the first person at the rendezvous point. It worries me, but the cars start rolling in over the next few minutes as we regroup. I nod to Maggie as she and Enid climb out of their car, and high five a surprisingly enthusiastic Jesus as he passes me. Then, the car I've been waiting for pulls in.

I get to my feet as Aaron parks his car, and I make my way towards them as he and Eric climb out. I freeze in a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Clary isn't with them. _No, no, no! Where is she?!_ I take another look at Aaron and Eric, taking the fact that they're not crying or covered in blood as a good sign; there's a chance that she's still alive.

"Aaron! Eric!" I say, running to join them.

"Daryl," Eric says. "How'd things go at your end?"

"Fine, but I don't care about that," I say. "Where the hell is my sister?"

Aaron says, "I don't know. We got separated. She was with Rick, and I know that when it comes to his relationship with Clary, he doesn't count for much half the time, but she'll be okay. It's Clary we're talking about."

"And it's _Negan_ ," I return. "It's the Saviors. And all those walkers? The ones that _I_ brought..."

I can do nothing but pace in worry for the next five minutes. I'm the first one to hear the approaching car, my head snapping up the second I do. The car has barely stopped before I'm running to meet my sister as she climbs out of the passenger seat. I wrap her in a hug as soon as I reach her, murmuring, "Oh, my god. You're here." I pull back, taking her face in my hands and brushing my thumb over her cheek. "You're here. You made it. You're alive."

"You okay?" Clary questions. "Daryl?"

"Yeah, yeah," I say, nodding. "Oh, my god, I didn't think you made it."

"Daryl, do you think I'd let her die?" Rick questions. "C'mon, she's family."

Aaron doesn't trust Rick when it comes to Clary, due to what all Rick's put her through. Hell, I can't blame him, given their history. And despite everything, Clary's loyalty to Rick _never_ wavers. Then, I realize that despite Rick putting Clary in danger on multiple occasions, he was still there for her today. I give Rick's shoulder a squeeze as he walks by, telling him, "Thank you."

He nods, and I turn back to Clary as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. "Love you, kemosabe," she whispers.

"Love you more," I return, kissing her forehead.

"Not possible," Clary argues, and I ruffle her hair as she steps away to reunite with Aaron and Eric, flipping me off for messing with her hair. Aaron hugs her first, telling her, "Never stay at a battle that long again. You scared us."

"Dad, it was five minutes," Clary points out.

"A lot can happen in five minutes. You know that better than most."

"I know," Clary says, pulling away from Aaron to turn her attention to Eric. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as she rests her forehead against his chest. Eric questions, "You okay, sweetheart?"

"For now," she replies. "But until Negan's dead, no, I'm not."

"Wait for it," Eric murmurs, pressing his lips to her temple. He kisses the scar she received from the bullet that she took for them. "You're the one that'll take the shot. Make it count."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"Clary?" Daryl questions. "Can I talk to you?"

I don't want to let Eric go. Honestly, when he hugs me, I _never_ want to let go. Eric gives the best hugs, holding you close and tight. His chest pressed against mine, always going under for the hugs so he gets the final say when it comes to letting go. He doesn't let go until he thinks you're ready.

"Clary?" Daryl repeats. "Hey, can we talk?"

I nod, stepping away from Eric. Daryl takes my arm, pulling me aside and to the edge of the woods so our conversation is private. "I have something for you," he tells me, looking in his pocket. He pulls out a folded paper. "It's from the Kingdom."

I take the paper, looking up at my brother. "How did you get this? You left the Kingdom before I came."

"Morgan," Daryl tells me. "He had it. He thought I should be the one to give them to you."

I open the letter, but not before reading the outside: _To Clary Dixon, if I die._

Benjamin knew this was coming.

 _Clary,_

 _I don't know how to begin. There's so much I want to tell you, enough to fill an entire book. And yet, I somehow have no idea what to say._

 _If you're wondering when I found time to write this, it's when you came to the Kingdom on your own, looking for Carol. I just watched you leave without looking back. You didn't say goodbye to anyone, not even me._

 _I'm writing this because I'm getting ready to go on a drop, but I get the feeling that it won't be like the others. Something feels different. I don't know what it is. Maybe this time, I'm realizing that I have more than just my little brother to come back to, even if you left the Kingdom. Something's going to happen today. I don't know what, but I want to be prepared either way._

 _I think I liked you from the moment Morgan told me about you, before I even met you. And then I did, and you were more incredible than Morgan could've ever made you out to be. You're a hero, Cheyenne Dixon. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and don't you dare think otherwise. You're the most amazing, beautiful, clever, and gallant person I've ever met. I could go on, probably list the ABCs of words I'd use to describe you. I think you'll save us all. You'll be the hero, the leader of the revolution. You'll be the one to kill Negan._

 _Clary, I know you're doubting whether or not you'll make it out of this war alive. I'm wondering whether or not I will, too. But I will fight, and I'll fight with everything I have, because I have something to come home to. I have Henry, and now I have you, too. When you fight so you have something to come home to, I want to be that something._

 _We're both probably thinking the same thing. "We just met, why are we moving this fast?" I know I'm thinking it. I'm sorry if it's freaking you out. It scares me, too. But in the short time that I've known you, I've fallen head over heels for you. It feels right. At least, I think it does._

 _I don't know if I'll die today, tomorrow, in a week, a month, or a year. I don't know when my final day will be. I don't know if I'll get a chance to tell you how I feel. I want to tell you, and I might get a chance to if I live through this war. But in case it ends for me today or sometime soon, I want you to know. So I suppose if it's my last chance to say it, Clary Dixon, I love you._

 _I love you, Princess._

 _-Sir Bitchamin_

I refold the letter, putting it in my pocket. When I get back to Alexandria, I'll put it with the other one. The one that I wrote in case I died going after Negan. And then, maybe I'll burn 'em both.

I look up when I realize Daryl's looking at me. "What?" I question.

"Nothing," he says with a small shake of his head. "It's just… I don't know, I thought you'd be more upset."

"It doesn't matter," I say. "All that shit's gotta go on the back burner. I got bigger problems than… than a dead friend that loved me. I mean, I'll avenge him, sure, but—what? What's that look for?"

Daryl pauses for a moment, the gears turning in his brain. "Morgan seems to think you really cared about him."

"I'm a liar, Daryl. A liar that teaches, a liar that knows how to play people. That night we spent at the Kingdom, I saw that Ezekiel listened to Benjamin. I figured if I could get Benjamin on my side, I'd have Ezekiel. I didn't care what I had to do, and I saw the way that he was looking at me. I did what needed to be done. Nothing more."

"Then why did you go to him when you went back to the Kingdom?"

"I thought it was my last night on earth," I answer. "I wanted to enjoy it, if you know what I mean. Turns out, it was his. Look, Darry, I don't… _not_ care. He was a sweet guy, but I didn't feel anything with him. He was nothing but a pawn that I played their game with." I gesture towards everyone clad in an orange armband. "I gambled on him, and it worked. Not in the way that I wanted it to or planned, but shit happens."

"Shit happens," Daryl echoes, nodding. "So… would now be a bad time to tell you that I already knew—"

"That Carl and I are back together?" I finish. "I figured you knew before this morning. Hell, most of Alexandria had probably figured it out."

"I'm just glad you and Carl have it figured out," Daryl tells me. For a split second, his eyes drift away from me, before a tiny smile appears on his lips and his eyes dart back to me. "That you two got a second chance. You know—" Daryl suddenly grins. "Dammit!"

"Daryl? Wha—" I squeak in surprise as I feel arms around me, lifting me up; but I don't fight back when I realize who it is by the beard tickling my neck. "Paul!"

"You're back!" he exclaims, putting me down as I turn to face him. "We were all worried!" He squeezes my hand, bowing his head to look down at me. "I was worried, but—"

"But I'm here," I assure him, cutting him off.

"Everything's going right," Jesus says with a grin. "It's working, Clary."

"Hold on," I say, scanning the crowd but not finding the face I'm looking for. "Not everything. Where's Gabriel?"

* * *

 _ **~Gabriel~**_

Walkers flood the Sanctuary's courtyard, moving towards the door. The Saviors from within the Sanctuary have stopped firing, and I scramble to my feet. I run for the doors leading to the Sanctuary first, just trying to get away from the dead. They're all locked, dead hands nearly grabbing me as I dart between them.

I spot a trailer, the windows boarded up. I run for it, relieved to find that the door of my last hope is unlocked. I quickly duck inside, slamming the door shut against the walkers behind me.

I pant, staring out the cracks between the boards at the hundreds upon hundreds of walkers in the Sanctuary. A voice from within the trailer says, "I hope you got your shittin' pants on."

"What?" I question, turning towards the corner where Negan's voice came from.

"Your shittin' pants," he repeats, stepping out of the shadows. "I hope you're wearin' 'em right now, 'cause you are about to shit your pants."

 _Oh, shit._


	4. 3:The Broken, the Beaten, and the Damned

**Chapter 3: The Broken, Beaten, and Damned**

 _ **~Carol~**_

As soon as we see the Savior, we open fire. He ducks behind a car, the windows shattering. He throws something out, and when I see it's a grenade, I shout, "Down!"

It goes off, thick smoke filling the air. Walkers close to us growl, but we can't see them through the smoke. My ears ring from the explosion, and I push myself up, firing at a walker before it reaches me. I get to my feet, joining the others and firing at the dead. Ezekiel calls, "The damned are upon us!"

"Protect the King!" Jerry orders.

"Protect yourselves!" Ezekiel responds. When I run out of bullets in my gun, I use my knife instead. It seems like all at once, the smoke dissipates and the gunfire ceases, all of the walkers dead. I run forward, searching for the Savior.

I question, "Anyone see where he went? He saw us." No one responds. "If he tells them we're here, it's over before it's started."

"It is not!" Ezekiel declares, approaching. "And he won't. For we together will find him, end him, and fulfil the promise of what we have begun." Ezekiel cocks his gun. "Trust the King."

"Outpost is due north," Daniel informs us. "Through the woods."

"As that is surely his course, so shall it be ours. If our comrades had already arrived, they'd've been here." Ezekiel turns to one of his men. "Return to the staging area, gather the others when they land. If they haven't yet, release Shiva from her cage. Due north. We'll leave a trail for you. Ensure no enemies remain in these environments and be not ten minutes behind. Go."

"Now what?" Jerry questions.

"Onward!" Ezekiel bellows, Jerry whooping in affirmation. "To our foe! Then to his compound!" Ezekiel looks to me, smirking. "Then to certain victory."

"Alright," I say, cocking my gun. "As Clary would say, let's kick it in the ass."

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

"Looks like they made themselves a moat," I say, observing the two fences caging in walkers, surrounding the satellite outpost. "Guess we shouldn't be surprised, considering."

"We can do this," Tara says, checking to make sure the clip in her gun is full. "We did it before."

"Yeah, that's what I was considering."

"I wasn't here before," Morgan says, then glances over his shoulder at Dianne. "We need a clear shot, right in the head."

"Just a few seconds," she confirms.

"So we need to time it right."

"If they see us, if they fire a gun," I warn, "we're not getting in."

"Don't let 'em fire a gun, Dianne," Morgan tells her. She nods, stepping closer to the fence. Andy steps closer to Morgan, asking, "You need us to cover you or something?"

"I do not," he replies.

"Hey, we're here to help. It shouldn't just be you."

"I don't die."

I glance back at Morgan before stepping closer to the fence. He makes his way to a clump of walkers, rattling the fence and drawing them to him. The Saviors take notice, but Dianne is faster. She sinks two arrows in their heads, and they drop without firing a shot.

We rush for the gate, leaving the walkers between the fences as we enter through the front door. I fall in step right behind Tara as she takes the lead, entering the satellite station. I react first when I see the Savior out of the corner of my eye, a silenced bullet making its way into his head. He drops, and we press on; but there's only one thing on my mind.

Clary, and how she nearly died the last time we were here. She's not here with us now, but I can only worry more, knowing she's off at another outpost in the middle of a firefight.

Two Saviors appear at the end of the hall, and Tara and I fire together, each killing one. We all pause, waiting for more. When none come, I turn to look at Morgan, nodding once. He snaps his fingers at Dianne to relay the message, and she whistles to signal that the others can enter. They file in, and Tara and I lead the way through the halls. Those stationed at the corners raise their hands, telling everyone else to get ready. We do this together, at once, so a Savior doesn't have a chance to raise an alarm like the last time.

I raise my first, then bring it down.

Those stationed at doors kick them open, firing on the Saviors within. Tara and I push into a supply room, a closed closet door inside. Tara and I both aim at it, and I give her the nod. I cover her as she kicks it open, bringing her gun up as it swings open to reveal a man on his knees, hands in the air. He exclaims, "Please don't shoot me! Please, don't shoot me, please!"

"Oh, look," Tara says smugly, taking note of the puddle below him. "You pissed your pants."

"I'm not one of them," he explains. I lower my gun, but Tara keeps hers raised on him. "My name's Dean."

"Why are you still talking?" Tara demands.

"Tara, wait," I order, stopping her as she takes a step towards him and putting myself between them after taking the gun laying on the floor next to him. "I'm just saying, wait."

"For what?"

"He has his hands up, Tara," I reply, as it's obvious he's surrendering.

"We have a job to do!"

She starts to take a step forward, and I take a step backwards, protecting him. There's gunfire from outside the room, and I tell her, "Go check that out."

Tara lowers her gun with a sigh, checking on the cause of the commotion as I aim my gun at the Savior, just in case he does try something. "Come out," I tell him, gesturing with my gun for him to get up.

Dean gets to his feet, slowly emerging from the closet. He keeps his back against the wall beside it, hands raised. He's a head taller than me, I note as I aim my gun at his chest. Tara opens the door, revealing most of the others. Dianne tells her, "We're on top of each other over here. We'll signal you when it's clear. Be ready."

Tara returns to the Savior and I, her gun aimed at his head. "I got it, Jesus," she says. "Step aside."

"Tara," I start.

"There's a firefight outside and we don't even know if Morgan's alive."

"Please, lady, I'm not one of them," Dean begs.

"You're here. You had a gun. You _are_ one of them."

"I'm not! I'm not. You gotta believe me."

"Then what are you doing here?" I demand.

"I'm just a worker," he explains. "They brought me from the Sanctuary to cook, clean, you know, whatever. They did not give me a choice. They made me leave my wife and kids. Your people, you do this at the Sanctuary, too? The families okay?"

"We don't want to hurt the workers," I say, then look at Tara. "We're not going to."

"You believe him?" Tara questions.

"It's not about him. I'm not gonna shoot someone with their hands up and I'm not letting you."

"These medical supplies, they're the Hilltop's, right?" Tara questions, picking up a bottle. "Maggie's prenatals? They took them because they could. Because they _don't give a shit_ , so why should we?"

"I know they killed your girlfriend," I say. "You loved her. This isn't you."

"It is now!"

"We're not here for revenge! It can't be about that!"

"It can!" Tara exclaims.

A stray bullet breaks the glass in the door, and in the moment I duck from it, Dean grabs my arm, pushing my gun away from his chest. He shoves me into the shelf of medical supplies, wrenching my gun from my hands and pulling me back against him. I try to fight back, but before I know it, my own gun is being pointed at my head and Tara's aiming her gun at the person using me as their shield.

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

"Little Roy, you copy?" a female voice says from the walkie that Clary holds. "Little Roy, it's Mara. You copy?"

"Think they know?" Eric questions.

"Todd?" the Savior questions, and a male voice answers that he's there. "Lock the stairwell. Every floor."

"They know we're coming," Clary says. "Too late. We're already here."

Our people fire at the Saviors as we pull into the courtyard of the office outpost, the Saviors scrambling for cover. We all climb out, taking cover behind our armored cars. The Saviors return fire, but we have the upper hand. "Spread out!" Francine shouts. "Watch for breaches! We keep 'em locked in, they got bigger problems than us!"

We spread out, shooting to kill. I glance behind me when I hear a lack of gunfire, relieved to see that it's just Eric taking cover for a moment. I turn back to the fight, and one by one, the Saviors fall. Scott turns to Clary and I, calling, "We got some coming up on my right!"

He looks to me for orders, but I turn to Clary beside me. I look to Clary, awaiting my daughter's orders. I've told her that I'd follow her anywhere, and now, she's leading. Clary, when she realizes that I'm looking at her, barks, "Take over! You got this!"

"Stay on 'em!" I shout, turning to Scott. "Don't let 'em through! We pin them in, it takes care of itself, that's the plan!"

Scott returns fire, Francine moving to join them. "Tobin! Move in!" I shout.

"I need backup!" Eric shouts. "Cover me!"

"No! Let Tobin go!"

"There's no time!"

"Fuck," Clary hisses, taking off to cover Eric. He runs for the right flank, Clary following him until he reaches cover on the right flank. Clary lets outs a cry and drops behind a car, bullets striking the metal behind where she was standing. My heart stops, not knowing if she's dead or alive. I shout, "Clary!"

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

"I wouldn't," Dean advises. I flinch, feeling his hot breath on my ear. I struggle against him, but there isn't much I can do with a gun to my temple. "You know what's funny? Normally, I'd peg you as the softie, not pretty boy. Do you _know_ how _hard_ it is to piss yourself on purpose? It's like your dick knows you're wearing pants." Dean stomps on the bottle of prenatals, crushing them beneath his boot. "Oh, look at that. Well, that shit is _ruined._ Looks like that dumb bitch Maggie and her kid are just gonna die anyway. Just like you two."

"I'm gonna kill you," Tara growls.

"Aw, honey."

"Or someone else will," she continues. "There's too many of us."

"That's where we differ. If I take the two of you with me, then I've got one hell of an insurance policy. So why don't you put that thing down? Unless you're gonna shoot through this beautiful man here." Tara doesn't move. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

"I think she's gonna shoot you," I say.

"I am," Tara confirms.

"Yeah, she is."

"Shut up!" Dean snaps.

"Tara," I say.

"Do it," she says.

"Tara, he has a gun to my head."

She shakes her head. "Not for long."

"Wait, wait," Dean says. "Wait a minute."

"Go to hell!"

"Okay, so you really wanna risk it, huh? Me for him? I can tell you right now that I am not worth it. We can work this out. I may talk a big game, like I'm a tough guy, but I'm not. I really just want—"

Dean cuts himself off, taking the gun off of my head to aim at Tara. She ducks out of the way as I push his arm up, the gun firing into the ceiling. I elbow him in the gut, taking my gun back. I duck under his arm, kicking him in the back of the knee and sending him to the ground. I aim my gun down at him, and Dean pushes himself up, looking up at me.

He says, "You're not gonna do it. It's not you."

"It's not about revenge, it's about getting it done," Tara says.

I know that Clary wouldn't hesitate to shoot him, especially after he put a gun to my head. But I'm not Clary. I can't just kill people, not when there's a chance for something else. I turn my gun, smacking him in the head with the grip and knocking him out. I take a rope, tying him up.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tara demands. "He tried to kill us!"

"I told you, it's not about him."

"So he gets to live? What about Abraham, Glenn, Denise?"

"This is different."

"You're not Rick. You're not Maggie. You're not Clary."

"No, but I'm Clary's second," I reply. "And Maggie? She'll hear what I have to say."

Over a radio, we hear a call for evac. Dianne calls, "Jesus! Tara!" We open the door, rushing across the hall as Dianne tells us, "They're falling back. Is there another way out of here?"

"Yeah," I answer, taking off for the other exit. "Follow my lead."

They follow behind me, outside the front door and around the building to the other exit. I order, "Circle the door. Wide, at least twenty feet. Guns up, but hold your fire."

"What?" Tara exclaims.

"They're gonna give up. We only fire if they fire first."

"If they fire first," Dianne says, glancing over at me. "One of us dies."

"Then let's hope, for my sake, that they don't." I look over at Tara, who clearly doesn't agree with my decision and is giving me a nasty side-eye. "You can try to stop me."

The door rolls open, a single Savior with a handgun there. As soon as he sees us, he aims, but doesn't fire. I bark, "Drop your weapon!" He pauses. "Drop your weapon and surrender."

He lowers his gun, putting it on the ground. He looks up at us as he straightens, saying, "Living sounds good to me." To the other Saviors within the halls, he calls, "We're surrounded!" The Saviors emerge, weapons raised. He shakes his head, telling them, "Don't be as dumb as they think we are. Put your guns down."

The Saviors don't drop their weapons at first. "It's okay," Tara says. "We can do it the hard way. Because even if Maggie listens to you, Rick will listen to me."

"You know who Rick will listen to first?" I return, not giving Tara time to answer. "Clary, and she will listen to me." The Saviors lower their weapons, and the blond that opened the door steps forward, his hands raised. "We're doing it _my_ way."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I remove my arms from over my head, pushing myself up from where I hit the ground when I saw the Saviors aiming at me. I return fire, looking for Aaron at the same time. As soon as he sees me, he takes off for where I am, trusting me to provide cover fire until he reaches the car I'm hiding behind. Aaron lowers his gun as he looks me over, demanding, "You okay?!"

"Easy, Dad," I reply. "I'm good. I told you, it ain't gonna be that easy to get rid of me."

We both duck down as bullets ricochet off the car next to us, and Aaron spins on his heel, returning fire. "It's starting," Aaron tells me.

I take a look over the car, spotting one of the men that I shot and killed on his feet. His eyes are glazed over, his head tilted and drooping. He stumbles towards the living, shuffling his feet. Even though I can't hear it over the gunfire, I know a low growl emerges from his mouth. The undead man stumbles towards one of the living that he was once allied with, dragging her to the ground as he feasts on her flesh.

To my companions, I yell, "It's starting! They're turning! We're almost through!"

And now's when it's all gonna go to hell.

I hear Eric yell, "Francine!"

I turn in the direction that Eric's voice came from, only to find him pushing forward and firing on the Saviors, Francine lying dead on the ground. Eric ducks behind a truck, and I shout, "Eric! Don't you dare! Fall back!"

"Clary!" Aaron shouts. "C'mon!"

I fire at a Savior moving towards Eric, and he drops back, taking cover from my shots. Aaron throws his gun in the backseat of a car. "Get in, go!" Aaron orders.

I scramble in, Aaron climbing in the driver's seat. He starts the ignition, throwing the car into reverse and backing into the Saviors converging on Eric's location. I look over at him and deadpan, "I'm glad you never taught me to drive, Pops."

"Not the time, Cheyenne," Aaron scolds as the body of one of the Saviors cracks the windshield. He lets the car run, the two of us scrambling out. Eric provides cover, mowing down the remaining Savior as we run to meet him. He presses his back against the truck he's taking cover behind, eyes closed for a moment. Aaron grabs onto his jacket, fretting, "You okay? You okay?"

"I'm fine," Eric says, taking a second to breathe. Aaron checks the area around us, making sure there's no approaching Saviors, while I check Eric. "Our people, they need—"

"No," I whisper, my heart stopping.

The second I see the blood on Eric's stomach, I break. My hands go to his stomach, and tears come to my eyes as I beg, "Please, no, please, don't let this be real! Please, Dad, please!"

"Eric, Eric, no!" Aaron exclaims. "No! No, no, no, no!"

"Dad, we gotta go!" I rush. "We gotta get outta here!"

Aaron takes one side, and I take Eric's other, keeping my hands pressed to his stomach as we leave the battle behind.

* * *

 _ **~Rick~**_

Dwight said that the guns were here, at this outpost. He was wrong, or he lied. Daryl and I searched every floor, every nook and cranny. I killed a man that was just trying to protect his infant daughter, a man that I never would've killed had I known, but we'll take care of her now. I enter one room on the top floor, looking around.

A light sits on an end table, illuminating the room. A fishing net hangs from one wall, poles leaning against the wall beside it. I make my way over to the end table after making sure there's no one in the room with me.

I look down at a picture below me, immediately recognizing the family. A family I haven't seen in years, a family that I last saw when they split off for Birmingham and us to the CDC.

 _He's here._

"Dammit," I sigh.

Morales.

"Keep your hands down," Morales orders. I watch him approach out of the corner of my eye, gun raised on me. "Turn around slow."

I do just as he says, staring at him in shock. He's really here, after all this time. And he's with _them_.

Morales's eyes flick over me, clearly recognizing me. He says, "Hi, Rick."

"Your name," I say, "is Morales. You were in Atlanta."

"That was a long time ago," he replies, reaching for the walkie on his belt with one hand. "It's over now, Rick. I called the Saviors back. And they're coming."


	5. 4: Nothing to Lose

**Chapter 4: Nothing to Lose**

 _ **~Rick~**_

"Guns down," Morales orders. "Now." I do as he says, putting my guns on the ground. Morales chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. "So you're the Rick from Alexandria. This whole time, it was you."

"You called your men in for nothing," I tell him. "The fight's out there. It's just me in here."

"Did you hear what I said? I know who you are. I saw it in the mirror through the open door, and it wasn't any kind of blast from the past. As soon as I saw you, I knew you made the same trip as me. From there to here. Shit, hell, I guess we aren't the same guys we used to be. 'Cause you're a monster. I called them back because you're a prize, Rick. We've been told. We don't kill you, the Widow, the King, or the Orphan. Not if we don't have to. So why are you here, Rick? I know you. Just like before. You're always the guy willing to rush in. But why? What is it you're looking for?"

I don't reply, still shocked at seeing Morales here.

"Nothin' to say, huh? It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Not for you, or anyone else you brought in here. 'Cause what's left of my people, they're coming. And we'll get you to Negan. Or we won't. Either way, we're gonna settle your shit, Peaches."

"Is your family here?" I finally question.

From the change in Morales's breathing, the way he lowers the gun just a bit, I already know the answer. He tells me, "We never made it to Birmingham. They didn't."

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

"Really, Rick?"

"I am. I lost people, too. Lori, Shane, Andrea. _Glenn_. Negan killed him. Clary was _covered_ in his blood. She's the who you call the Orphan. Negan forced us to our knees, bashed Glenn's head in right in front of his me. In front of his pregnant wife."

"He had a wife?" Morales questions.

"Not before. He met her."

"In this?"

"Yeah. In this. She's the Widow." I pause, not wanting to know the answer, but I have to ask. "Are you Negan, too?"

Morales raises his gun on me again. "I lost my family. I lost my mind. I was in some trailer, sleeping myself to death, waiting to become nothing. And the Saviors? They found me. They thought _I_ was worth a damn, worth bringing back with 'em. So yeah. Yeah, I'm Negan. To make it this far, this long, I had to be. Had to be something. Just like you."

"We're not the same," I reply.

"How's that?"

"Well, look at you."

"Look at me? Look at _us_ , Rick. Look at us. We're two assholes who will do whatever we have to, just to keep going. And the only difference is I'm the one holding the gun. That doesn't make me any worse than you, Rick. That just makes me luckier. 'Cause let's face it, if it wasn't me, if it was you holding the gun, I'd be brains out on the floor right now."

"You don't know that," I argue.

"And you do?" Morales challenges.

"I _know_ I wouldn't want to."

"C'mon, is that the best you can do?"

"I'd at least try to find another way."

"Yeah, why? 'Cause we knew each other for a few days back at the start?"

"Look, I know I would—"

"You wanna know what I think? I think you can talk all you want, you can say all the words. Lori, Shane, Andrea, Glenn—they're all dead. And somewhere along the way, Officer Friendly died right along with 'em. Just like I did. That's what I know, Rick."

I suddenly spot Daryl behind him, crossbow raised, and try, "Wait, no!"

Morales spins, raising his gun; but Daryl fires first. His bolt sinks into Morales's eye, his body dropping to the ground with a thump. Daryl questions, "You good?"

"That… that was…"

"I know who that was," Daryl replies. "But it don't matter. It don't matter that his wife kept Clary fed, that he taught her different ways of fishing and she taught him tracking in return. It don't matter. Not one little bit." Daryl pulls his bolt out of Morales's body. "You find them guns?"

"They aren't here."

"What?" Daryl demands.

"He called the Saviors back from the courtyard." I kneel, grabbing my weapons. "We gotta get out before—" I cut myself off as I hear a door being kicked open down the hall. "They're here."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

The gunfire still continues behind us, the battle raging on. Eric leans against a tree as we strip his jacket off, Aaron assuring him, "It's okay, it's okay."

"How bad is it?" Eric questions.

I turn him, searching his back for an exit wound. I laugh in relief when I see one, telling him with a smile, "There's an exit wound. That's great. Aaron, tie his jacket around him."

Aaron nods, doing what I say. Eric winces, his hands gripping Aaron's arms as he sinks to the ground. "We're gonna get you to the Kingdom's doctor," Aaron tells him, kneeling beside him. "We just have to keep pressure."

I kneel with them, fighting back tears because there's still work to do. I can't clock out yet, not when there's still a chance we can save Eric. Sweat plasters his red hair to his forehead, blood darkening his green shirt. Aaron's voice is on the verge of breaking as he says, "Eric, I'm so sorry."

"Were you the one who shot me?" Eric jokes, trying to keep Aaron from breaking.

"I pulled you into this," Aaron tells him. "You didn't want to fight."

 _Oh, this can't be happening. No, no, please, no. God, no, don't let this be real._

"Until I did," Eric replies. "You need to help them."

"No," Aaron objects.

"You need to go. I can bleed here fine on my own."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Don't be an idiot. They need you. They need you both." Eric steals a glance at me, at the shock plastered all over my face. "She needs you." Aaron bows his head, choking on his tears. "Aaron, look. Look at me." Aaron lifts his head. "You know I love you. You know I'm right."

Aaron sniffles, pressing his forehead against Eric's before kissing him. That's when he breaks down sobbing, the fact of the little amount of time we have left setting in. Eric holds out an arm and murmurs, "Clary, c'mere, sweetheart."

I don't hesitate, Eric wrapping his arm around me and holding me close. "It's okay," Eric says. "Now, Aaron, stand your ass up, get back to the fight, and you win this thing."

"I will," Aaron promises. " _We_ will. I love you."

"I always had a hunch," Eric replies with a small smile. Aaron takes his rifle, kissing Eric once more. Aaron pauses before he leaves, looking back at me. "Go," I growl. "You're in charge. Give the order."

Aaron questions, "Push forward?"

"We got nothin' to lose," I reply. "Kill 'em all, even if they surrender. They don't get to live."

Aaron takes off, returning to the fight and leaving me with Eric. I turn towards the sky, Jesus's words replaying in my head. _No matter if it's night or day, just look up, and it'll be okay._ But it's not. It's not okay. It shouldn't be sunny. It should be grey and cloudy, it should be thunderstorming or raining, at the very least. Instead, it's sunny and far too bright for what we've gone through. And what we're going through.

"Hey, it's alright," Eric says. "I don't feel it."

"You're gonna be okay," I tell him, pressing my hand against his stomach. "You're gonna be okay. You'll make it."

"Stop," Eric murmurs. "Stop worrying, okay? Do… do you remember when I sang to you? To stop the nightmares?"

His breathing is shaky as I hug him, and I know that he was lying when he said he didn't feel anything. "I just want this nightmare to end."

"Me too, baby," Eric whispers. "Will you sing? It's up to you now."

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "Yeah, Dad, I can sing."

Shakily, I sing for him.

" _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine  
_ _You make me happy when skies are gray  
_ _You'll never know dear, how much I love you  
_ _Please don't take my sunshine away_

 _In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me  
_ _When I awake my poor heart pains  
_ _So when you come back and make me happy  
_ _I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame_

 _You are my sunshine, my only sunshine  
_ _You make me happy when skies are gray  
_ _You'll never know dear, how much I love you  
_ _Please don't take my sunshine away"_

And then I'm crying, because Eric's getting weaker and we both know our time is running out. We both know he's not gonna survive this. Eric murmurs, "Clary, sweetheart, you gotta go. You gotta get back."

"I can't leave you," I whisper.

"I don't want you to see this, baby."

"I can't—"

"You can't let Aaron do this by himself. You gotta promise me you'll stay alive for him."

"I will. I promise."

"Go. He needs you. I'll be okay. I'll still be here when this is all over."

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my forehead against Eric's. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you so much. I'm so proud of you." Eric kisses the top of my head. "Now go kick their asses, baby. Win this war."

* * *

 _ **~Morgan~**_

I think it's impossible to get Jared to shut up.

As we march the captured Saviors to the Hilltop, he whistles a loud and rather annoying tune. I hit his arm, causing him to chuckle, but at least he stops whistling. I walk further ahead, joining Jesus as he tells me, "We're not far. To the Hilltop. We're far from somewhere else, I guess. We made our decision."

"Nothing's been decided," I respond shortly.

"Well, nothing is permanent except permanence I guess. But we are taking these men to the Hilltop. That's where we're going and that's what we're doing."

"You know how dangerous this is. Who these people are."

Jesus pauses for a moment. "No matter what they've done, they're people. There's many kinds of danger, many kinds of dying. I kill. I've killed. You do. You have. But we don't execute."

"I have," I say. Jesus falls silent, dropping back.

"You know, I've been trying to figure out what's different about you," Jared says. "There's something that's definitely different. I think I finally got it. It's your armor. It's what's different. It's smaller. Almost like it shrunk, or something." I start walking just a bit faster, trying to get away from Jared. "Oh shit. Is that the kid's? It is, isn't it? Why the hell would you wear that? Didn't do shit for him."

I spin on my heel, aiming my rifle at him. Everyone stops, and I say, "Clary, she's claimed you, but she won't know. I can say that you ran, or that you tried to kill Jesus. She won't know the difference."

"Morgan, don't," Jesus says. "We're bringing them back so Clary and Maggie can decide what to do."

"And you think that Clary won't decide to kill them all?"

"She won't _execute_ them!"

"Walkers on the hill!" Dianne suddenly shouts. "Walkers on the hill!"

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

I lead the way down the hall, gun raised, Rick close behind. We duck into a doorway when there's gunfire from one end of the hall. Rick returns fire, barking, "Down there, go!"

I take off the way we came, and duck into another doorway as Saviors appear at the other end. Gunfire separates us, Rick down the hall and on the other side. I use my semi-automatic first, the two of us taking turns firing at the Saviors at opposite ends of the hall. The Saviors duck for cover as I fire at them, but I find myself looking at my gun in disbelief when it clicks. I could've sworn I had more bullets. I switch to my revolver, counting down the six bullets.

My gun clicks.

I'm out, and the Saviors are still coming. Still shooting.

"Rick! Hey! Hey!" I shout, and he turns to look at me. "I'm out."

Rick fires another shot at the Saviors at his end, then turns back to me. "Hey!" he shouts.

Rick holds up his hand, three fingers up, quickly counting down. He turns and fires at the wall across from him, striking a fire extinguisher. It provides cover for me, and Rick shouts, "Come on!"

I run across, joining him. The Saviors from my end chase after me, and more gunfire erupts. They drop, and for a moment, I think the Saviors killed their own. Then, a voice I easily recognize as Aaron's orders, "Teams of four! Sweep the offices!"

"If there's any Saviors left alive," Clary adds, "kill 'em all."

"Aaron?" Rick calls. "Clary?"

"Rick?" Aaron questions.

"We're by the elevator!"

"Is Daryl with you?"Clary calls, her voice full of worry.

It's not just worry for my safety. I know that much, just by her tone. Something's wrong. Something happened. Something bad. Something made her change her mind about killing everyone.

"I'm here!" I shout. "I'm here."

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

Walkers roll down the hill, stumbling to their feet and then towards us. We open fire, and screaming starts as one walker reaches one of the Saviors. The Saviors we captured were tied together with a line of a rope, forming two separate groups. Jared leads his line into the woods, and the second group goes to follow. Alden, the blond that surrendered at the outpost, trips one of the Saviors, forcing them to stop. He barks, "They got guns, we don't! Stop!"

I spot Morgan chasing after Jared's group, and take off after him. One of the Saviors trips, the rest having to stop and get him up. Morgan catches them first, shooting one in the head. He drops to the ground, and every Savior but Jared immediately gets on their knees, one of them begging, "Stop, don't shoot! We give up."

Only Jared remains standing, and Morgan aims at the Saviors. I shove him, forcing him to miss his shot, and he spins, aiming at me. I grab the barrel, forcing it away from me and out of his hands with a grunt. "Morgan, stop," I order.

Dianne, along with a few of her men, arrive behind me. She orders, "C'mon, on your feet, let's go."

"They ran off to get away," Morgan says. "Then what happens after?"

"We stop them," I answer.

"And they keep trying, again and again. What'd you think? That they were gonna come back? That they would change? That they would be something else? It doesn't change. It never changes. And once they turn—"

"Morgan!" I bark, cutting him off. "We're gonna find another way. Maggie will find another way."

"Do you really think she won't want them dead? Every last one, after what they've done. And it ain't just them 'cause we're here now. To be this, do the same thing they do, but we go on. You see, we are the same!"

"Morgan."

"We're the same! We're the same. So there's no choice. Everybody turns, but we—"

"There's war," I interrupt, "and then there's peace. We're gonna have to live with these people after. We're gonna have to find a way to peace." I rest my hand on his shoulder. "Morgan."

He suddenly shoves me back, and I catch myself before I fall. I duck the swing of his bo staff, kicking him back. We both take a fighting stance, and I jump back as he swings again. Morgan takes a few steps back, and I push my hair back, saying, "Alright, you're having a little trouble."

Morgan doesn't respond, instead spinning his staff before attacking again. I dodge and side-step his jabs before landing a punch. He grunts as he stumbles back, putting his hands on his knees. I question, "You wanna stop now?" Morgan simply looks at me. "Maybe not."

He attacks again, hitting me with the blunt end of his staff in my stomach. I double over, but I catch the staff as he swings it. I hold on, kicking him, but he manages to take the staff with him. I try to kick him again, but he swipes my feet out from under me. I roll out of the way, Morgan stabbing the ground where I had been barely a second before. I'm on my feet again, knocking Morgan to the ground now.

He gets back up, not quitting. Morgan gets me on my back, and I throw my hands up, holding off his staff as he tries to push down on it. I kick him off of me, and he takes the staff with him. I grab for it again, kicking him back and yanking it out of his grasp all at once. He grunts but stops his offense, knowing that I've beaten him.

"Is it over, Morgan?" I question. Morgan doesn't answer, so I assume it's a yes, tossing his stick back to him. As soon as it's in his hands, he spins it, putting it to my throat. I lift my chin, feeling the tip brushing my neck. "Is it?"

"What?" Morgan questions after a long, tense moment. He lowers his bo staff, taking a step back. "I'm not right. I know that. I'm not right. But that doesn't make me wrong." He shake his head. "I can't be a part of this."

Morgan steps back, picking up his dropped gun. Tara says, "Morgan. You are right."

Morgan walks off, and I sigh. Dianne questions, "You alright?"

I nod. "We have to keep moving," I say. "Shouldn't stay in one place for too long. All that gunfire's gonna draw even more walkers."

* * *

 _ **~Maggie~**_

"Maggie!" Enid calls from where she stands watch atop the Hilltop's wall. "It's him."

 _I knew he'd come back sooner or later,_ I think as I walk down to the gate, Enid joining me. Gregory knocks on the gate from the other side, calling, "Hey! Hello? Open the gates! I need help. I've been through hell! I know you're in there! I know you can hear me!"

Kal looks down at me, and I give him a nod. Kal opens the gate, just far enough that Gregory can see inside. He steps closer to the gate, a look of relief on his face before it changes to confusion when it doesn't open any farther. He questions, "Is the gate broken? I told them to oil it—"

Gregory cuts himself off when he sees me standing on the other side, prepared for his arrival.

"Gate's not broken," he guesses.

"What are you doing with Gabriel's car?" I question, catching sight of the vehicle behind parked behind him. "Where is he?"

"I don't know who that is," Gregory replies. I guess I really shouldn't be surprised at that, as Gregory can't even remember the names of the Hilltop residents. "Look, the car was just… there."

"So what are you doing here?" I demand.

"I live here. This is my home."

 _It's also the homes of the people you threatened to kick out, assface._

"I built this place," he continues. "You weren't here for that, but some of us didn't just _show up._ "

"Shut your damn mouth!" I snap. "You're really gonna stand there and pretend you didn't try to sell us out?! Sell this place out to the _Saviors?!_ "

"I was working for the side of sanity. I was working for peace."

"You threatened to kick people out."

"I tried to save lives. Now those people are cannon fodder."

"Those people are fighting for a better life!"

"Look, the throwing out the families line was all Negan," Gregory tries. "He made me say those horrible things. I went to them in-in-in, you know, in the interest of furthering a-a-a good faith diplomacy. I tried to save lives! Some people, with _out_ opinions colored by a preoccupation with vengeance, might call that heroic."

"You were looking out for yourself," I reply, knowing every single fucking word that's coming out of Gregory's mouth is nothing but a lie being told by someone that is interested _only_ in self-preservation. "You went there to betray us. To warn Negan that we were gonna fight. That's what you told Kal when you _dragged him there._ That's why Kal _left_ you there."

"Kal?" Gregory questions, then scoffs. "Kal is delusional."

"What the hell?" Kal exclaims, leaning across the wall to look down at Gregory.

"Kal!" Gregory says, and Kal simply flips him off. "C'mon, man, you know you can be dramatic. That thing with the sorghum pancakes, huh?"

"You mean when you _ate_ a _little girl's_ pancakes?" Kal returns.

"I did not eat those pancakes!" Gregory shouts, then looks behind him to see if his yelling attracted any walkers. Gregory sighs, turning back to me. "Look, for what it's worth, I did exactly zero harm to your cause. Negan already knew everything."

"Goodbye, Gregory," I say, turning to walk back up the path to Barrington House.

"Wait, no, please!" Gregory begs. "Alright, I went there because I was scared! Alright? I knew you were gonna fight and-and I didn't want to be complicit. Because I didn't think you could win. But I see now what you saw all along, that the Saviors can't be reasoned with. That fighting them is the only way. I was wrong. I made a mistake and I'm sorry."

I don't move from where I stand, not even turning around to look at him.

"Please, Maggie," Gregory pleads. Wow, he must be desperate, getting my name right for once. "We're all just human beings with faults and flaws and fears. But is this who you are? Have-have you no mercy? If you know humanity, if you know charity, please! Please, open the gate! Open your heart! Don't leave another human being out here to _die!"_

Tired of Gregory's incessant whining, I turn to Kal. I tell him, "Let him in."

Kal opens the gate, and Enid puts her hand on my arm, forcing me to look at her. "With everything he did?" she questions. "Why?"

I look over at Gregory, answering, "He's not worth killing. Not yet, anyway."

"You won't regret this," Gregory says as he approaches, Kal closing the gate behind him. Enid and I start off up towards Barrington, leaving Gregory behind and attempting to ignore him as he continues talking. "I've changed. I'm a believer now. You'll see."

"Uh, Maggie?" Kal calls. "I think you're gonna need to deal with this."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

We walk outside with Rick and Daryl to find that walkers have started to wander in, drawn by the gunfire. They feed on some of the dead. The others begin to take out the walkers and stop the others before they have a chance to turn. Aaron and I take off, heading back towards where we left Eric.

I think my heart stops beating for a second when I see that there's no one at the tree.

There's blood on the trunk, Eric's gun still lying there beside it.

 _There's too much blood._

Aaron picks it up before yelling, "Eric!"

"Dad!" I scream. "Dad!"

I freeze. I can hear it.

A walker growling.

I spin on my heel, whispering, "No. Please, no."

On the other side of the gate, I see a lone figure making its way towards the herd passing by. Aaron lets out a sob as we walk towards him, towards the walker that Eric has become. I don't know who it is at first that's run up to us, taking Aaron's arm. "He's there," Aaron sobs, his voice _so broken_. "Eric's there! I can't—I can't—"

It's Scott, I realize, as he supports Aaron, keeping him from collapsing.

"I can't let him—"

"Aaron," Scott says, cutting him off. "It's not him. We gotta go."

"No!" Aaron objects.

I remain where I am, frozen in shock. Scott puts his hand on my arm, trying to pull me back with them. I snap back, spinning and punching the first piece of Scott that I come into contact with. My fist connects with Scott's bicep; not exactly the best target for trying to free myself, but nonetheless I bark, "Don't touch me!"

I pull my arm free from Scott's grasp, hand going to my knife as I start forward. "Clary!" Scott exclaims.

"I got somethin' I gotta do on my own," I say, not even realizing they were Merle's last words until after they've left my mouth. It all comes back to me, clearer than ever. Merle, dead, stumbling towards Daryl and I, teeth snapping. Daryl, pushing me behind him because I couldn't do it. Because I couldn't put down someone I care about after they had already turned.

"Cheyenne," Aaron says in that broken voice of his. "Chey, please."

I turn back, Aaron extending his arm for me. I rush to his side, burying my face in his chest because I still can't put down my family.

* * *

 _ **~Maggie~**_

 _Oh, Jesus, what the hell have you done?_

Kal opens the gate, revealing that Jesus's crew that he took the satellite outpost has returned. And they're not alone.

Nearly forty Saviors are with them, hands bound and tied together with a rope.

Jesus took them as prisoners of war, and he wants to bring them inside to hold them captive as a piece of leverage over the rest of the Saviors.

And Gregory has the audacity to believe that he has a voice in the matter.

As soon as he sees the Saviors, he exclaims, "We are _not_ letting them in! No way!" I roll my eyes as Jesus meets me at the gate, Gregory trailing behind me. "With what they did, with what they do, they are _monsters._ "

"Gregory!" Jesus snaps.

"No!" Gregory returns. "This is not a sanctuary for killers. We'd be putting the safety of _everyone_ in jeopardy."

"Get out of here," I order, turning to look at the former leader.

"I know what they are," Gregory says. "I have stared in the face of—"

"Gregory!" I shout, fuming. "Go!"

Gregory turns and walks away after a moment, and I try to calm myself as much as I can as I turn back to Jesus. He says, "He actually came back after all that."

"And I actually let him in," I add.

Tara steps forward, crossing her arms. She chimes in, "No offense, Jesus, but I kind of agree with that prick."

"There _are_ families in here," I say. " _Children."_

"It's not like we'd let them roam free," Jesus replies. "There's two empty trailers out back. We could lock them up in there with round-the-clock guards until this whole thing is over. And then we can go from there."

"You know what they've done to us," I remind him. "What they've taken from us."

"Of course I do," Jesus says. "You were out, you didn't see her. You didn't know. You didn't feel the worry. You didn't know the panic that shot through me when I saw Clary put that gun to her head— _my gun._ You all lost that night, and you would've lost more because of what _he_ took. What _Negan_ took. But these men? They didn't take. They surrendered."

"Jesus," I start.

"They surrendered," Jesus repeats. "Not all of them wanted to, but the ones that did, they cut all ties they had with Negan. Look, I know what they did. I know it's not what Clary would do, letting Saviors live. But they've surrendered, and they still deserve a second chance. They're not innocent by any means, but Clary wouldn't kill people trying to start over. I can't kill people instead of giving them a second chance." I sigh. "We can't let them go, and we can't kill them. _We can't."_

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

The others all have bodies. They all have someone to bury.

We don't.

Aaron's shaking, doing everything in his power not to break down sobbing because I'm still here. In his mind, he still has a responsibility; but I can't force him to do his duty as a father when he's just lost the man he loves. Aaron has his arm around me, keeping me pressed into his side.

I turn, wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my face in his shoulder. I whisper, "You don't have to be strong for me, Dad. You don't—you don't…" I squeeze my eyes shut, choking on my tears. "He's gone. We lost. You don't… you don't have to keep fighting."

Aaron doesn't respond for a long time, until, with an unsteady voice, he whispers, "It's almost done. It's almost over. There'll be peace when we're done. There has to be. It's all we can do. We have to hold onto tomorrow."

I lift my head from his shoulder, just leaning into his side as I go back to staring at the bodies of those that sacrificed themselves for nothing; the guns weren't here. Daryl passes by us, squeezing Aaron's shoulder and leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "Rick and I, we'll take care of the rest," Daryl promises. "You can be done."

When neither Aaron or I respond, Daryl continues on, taking care of what needs to be taken care of. I close my eyes, resting my head against Aaron's shoulder.

I lift my head when I hear a baby crying.

Rick emerges from the outpost, a baby in his arms. Tobin inquires, "She was inside?"

"She was," Rick confirms, stopping beside Tobin. "I have a stop to make, and Daryl's got his bike. Maybe she can go back with you or Scott."

"She can go with me," Aaron volunteers, pushing himself up off the hood of our car. I follow him up, sticking close to him, not ready to let him leave me even for just a second. He looks down at me, and I nod at him. Aaron turns back to Rick. "We can take her to the Hilltop. She's be safe there."

Rick steps closer to us, softly saying, "Aaron, are you sure?"

"Eric, Clary, and I were gonna go up," Aaron tells him. "We were gonna go there after and update Maggie, so… it's what Clary and I are gonna do." Rick pauses, and Aaron's voice breaks as he whispers, "Please. I… I have to."

Rick nods, passing the baby to Aaron. He tells him, "Her name's Gracie."

Rick and Tobin leave, but Daryl pauses. He turns to me, and Aaron steps back with Gracie. Daryl wraps me in a hug, resting his chin on top of my head.

For once, I don't reciprocate Daryl's hug. Instead, I whisper, "Please, don't. Please don't touch me, Daryl."

"I'm sorry," Daryl murmurs. "We'll make 'em pay."

"'Cause we got nothin' to lose."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

"'Cause we got nothin' to lose."

Clary pulls herself from my embrace, bowing her head as she returns to Aaron's side, gently stroking Gracie's hair. "Daryl," Rick calls.

I turn away from my blood family and my adopted family, turning back to my brother in arms. I meet back up with Rick as Tobin goes to his car, heading back to Alexandria.

"I'm worried," I say, glancing over my shoulder at Clary and Aaron as they get in their car. "All of it, for nothing."

"This isn't over yet," Rick says, resting his hands on his hips as I turn back to him after watching Aaron drive away with the two children under his care. "The fight's still going on, and it's not just me that's been leading it."

"The hell you saying?" I demand.

"You know what I'm saying," Rick replies. "I don't want to do it, but I don't have any other choice. I need Clary still leading this. People listen to her. I know that she can get a lot more people to like her and kill for her than I can. I need her."

"She just lost her father!" I exclaim.

"The fight doesn't just stop because people have died!"

"It might not, but it is for her. She's _mourning_ her father _._ "

"There'll be time to mourn after. There will be. But there isn't now."

"Rick—"

"Negan still hasn't been defeated," Rick interrupts. "It won't be over until he is. There won't be time to mourn until after it's over."


	6. 5: The Room Where It Happens

**Chapter 5: The Room Where It Happens**

 _ **~Daryl~**_

Rick follows behind me in his Jeep as I take off after the Saviors from the chemical plant outpost, riding after them on my motorcycle. I see them up ahead, drawing my gun and firing at them. The Savior in the back of their Hummer drops the tailgate.

"Oh, fuck," I hiss under my breath, catching sight of the machine gun.

The Savior opens fire, and I have to swerve off to the side to avoid being hit. Rick continues on, flooring it. He serpentines to avoid being hit, and I get my bike back on the road, rushing to catch up. Rick catches sight of me in his rearview mirror, nodding.

He upshifts, pulling closer to the Hummer and drawing its fire. Rick only swerves out of the way after a bullet strikes the windshield, but I'm ready behind him. As soon as Rick is out of the line of fire, I pull the trigger, killing the Savior manning the machine gun.

Rick takes the lead in the chase again, the remaining Savior swerving back and forth to keep Rick from pulling up alongside him or ramming him. Rick manages to pull beside the Hummer, crossing from his Jeep to the passenger seat of the Hummer. A scream erupts from the Hummer, and then it swerves.

Rick pushes the Savior out, and he rolls off to the side of the road as the Hummer swerves to the other side, crashing into the guard rail. I rush to spot where Rick went over with the Hummer, climbing off. Down below, the Hummer is on its side, smoke billowing from its hood. I call, "Rick!"

"Hey," he says from below me. I look down to see him climbing up the hill, and reach down, offering my hand. I pull him the rest of the way up, Rick panting. We look down at the wrecked Hummer, Rick remarking, "Well, we got the guns."

"You look like shit," I return.

Rick pauses for a moment, not having a response to that. "Let's go see if this asshole's alive."

Rick turns, leading the way. He draws his revolver, aiming it down at the Savior as he questions, "Did you win?"

He turns onto his back, looking up at us as he writhes in pain. He was there at the chemical plant outpost, where Carol and Ezekiel were, along with their army of soldiers from the Kingdom. The Savior answers, "No one did."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" I demand. He doesn't answer, and I lean down, aiming my gun at him. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone's dead," he manages, choking on his blood.

"Bullshit."

"There's no one else?" Rick inquires. "You're the only one?"

"Me, the King," he answers. Ezekiel's still alive. "The ax man." Jerry. "And the short-haired psycho lady." Yup, that's Carol. "You did this. My people, your people… they're all gone."

 _The Kingdom's gone_ , I realize as I watch the Savior struggle for air. _No one made it but Jerry, Ezekiel, and Carol._

I turn and walk away, letting the Savior behind me die slowly and painfully. I stand at the edge of the road, looking down at the Hummer. "Rick," I say, looking over my shoulder to see him with his knife in the Savior's head. "I'm goin' down. Comin'?"

"Right behind you," Rick says, getting to his feet and putting his knife away. "LEad the way."

I make my way down to the Hummer, trying to pull a box out of the back. It's stuck, so I turn to Rick as he arrives, telling him, "Hey, give me a hand with this."

Together, we manage to get it out, sitting it down on the ground. Rick kneels and opens it up, revealing explosives inside. I grab a bag, piling the dynamite inside. Rick watches me, and I explain, "We can use these now."

"What?" he questions.

"Well, think about it. There ain't no Kingdom no more."

"Yeah…"

"We know what we gotta go," I say, gesturing to the bag of explosives. "We blow open the Sanctuary, let the walkers flood in. They'll surrender. It'll be done. Hell, we could end this by _sundown._ "

"They have workers in there, right?" Rick questions as he stands. "Families, too. Are there?"

"We'll hit the south side of the main building," I offer. "The workers live in the north side. They'll be up the stairs before the walkers even get in."

"What if they don't?" Rick counters. "There are people in there who _aren't fighters._ Doing this could change that. Make them pick up guns and stand by the Saviors. And if the Saviors don't surrender? Maybe everyone fights us. And we don't have the Kingdom anymore. We're not doing this."

"Nah," I say after a long moment of weighing my options. " _You_ ain't doing this."

I turn and walk off, not wanting to deal with Rick's bullshit anymore. He follows after me, grabbing my shoulder. I turn, shaking him off, as he says, "There's a plan, and everyone's stickin' too it."

"Not everyone," I snap back. "There's a lot of our people that are dead, Rick. My baby sister lost her daddy, and you wanted her out here! Things change, man." I start to turn away, but I've still got shit to say. "Negan and that other group? This is on them. If people die, it's their fault. Not ours."

"Daryl, we can't do this."

"We got our own people to look after."

I turn on my heel, stalking off. Rick follows after me, repeating, "We can't do this."

He grabs at my shoulder again, and I've had enough. I spin, punching him. My right hook lands, and he hits the ground with a grunt. I stand over him, telling him, "This ain't your choice. And you don't fucking touch me."

I pick up the bag I dropped when I punched him, continuing on. The next thing I know, Rick's tackling me to the ground. We roll, and I come out on top, gripping his shirt with one hand. I throw a punch, but he moves at the last second and I slam my fist into the earth. He shoves me off of him with a yell, grabbing the bag and chucking it over to the Hummer. In the moment his back is turned to me, I'm on my feet again and I get him in a choke hold.

Rick struggles against me, so I drop to one knee, staying above him. I choke him out, Rick trying to pry my arm from his neck and grabbing at my hair when he can't. He suddenly freezes, frantic as he chokes, "Daryl!"

I turn my head just far enough to the see the fire starting, and it hits me that Rick just threw the dynamite where there's a _fucking fire._ I release him, rushing, "Get up!"

He grasps my hand when I offer it, and I pull him up and with me as I start to run all at once. The Hummer suddenly explodes, the blast throwing us. I push myself up first, turning and just sitting there, watching the Hummer burn, accompanied by the occasional explosion.

"Nice job, dumbfuck," I remark as Rick sits up. "That plan just got shot to hell."

Rick looks at the burning Jeep, then over at me. He says, "Choke hold's illegal, asshole."

"Mmhmm," I say, getting up. "Yes, it is." I start the climb up the hill to my bike, Rick still sitting below. He watches the fire, and looks up at me when I whistle to get his attention. "Have fun walking, jackass."

* * *

 _ **~Maggie~**_

The gate opens, and a car I recognize as Aaron's pulls inside. I walk down the steps of Barrington, meeting them as Aaron stops the car. Aaron climbs out first, followed by Clary. I wait a moment more, but Eric isn't with them. Then, I see their eyes, red from crying. I see the blood on their hands. _He's dead_ , I realize. Clary brings me the notes from Rick and the Kingdom, and Aaron leans in the backseat, emerging with a baby girl. I take the letters, then wrap Clary in a hug. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

Clary doesn't respond. Instead, she goes back to Aaron's side, hiding her face in his shoulder. Aaron holds the baby in one arm, wrapping the other around Clary. He noses her hair, pressing his lips to her temple. He murmurs something that I can't hear, gently rubbing Clary's arm. He lifts his eyes from his daughter when he realizes that I'm still standing here, telling me, "Clary hasn't really let anyone, not even Daryl, close since…"

Aaron trails off, but he doesn't have to say it. I understand. "I'm sorry, Aaron," I tell him, creasing the paper in my hands. "I'm sorry. Is there anything you two need?"

"We just need some time," Aaron responds, glancing down at Clary. "Alone. Just the two of us."

"Here, I'll take the baby," I offer, extending my arms. Aaron allows me to take the baby, and I shift her, gently rocking her as I look down. "Hi, there. Who are you?"

"Gracie," Aaron says, then pauses for a moment, glancing down. "She was in the outpost. Rick… killed her father." He turns his full attention to Clary, holding her tightly. "Where…"

"Jesus isn't in his trailer," I tell him. "It's empty."

"Thank you," Aaron mouths. I shift Gracie in my arms as I watch what's left the Raleighs walk off, heading to Jesus's trailer to work through everything they lost. I catch up with Enid on my way to Barrington House, and together, we read the letters.

The Kingdom is gone, and Alexandria lost a few. But we're still coming out on top. Even after ambushes and car chases, we're still winning so far. The Hilltop, with our hostages, holds an advantage over the Saviors. "Enid," I say. "Let's go find Jesus."

"What about Gracie?" Enid questions.

"Will you take her to Bertie, then meet me by the gate?"

"Of course," Enid replies, taking Gracie. I follow her out, Enid heading to find Bertie while I walk to the gate. Enid rejoins me just as Gregory catches up, and I share a look of annoyance with Enid.

Kal opens the gate for us, and when we exit, I find Jesus passing out turnips and offering water to the Saviors. "Jesus," I call as I approach. "Jesus."

"Hi," he says, handing his canteen to a Savior.

"You're giving away our food," I observe.

"We had a bumper crop of turnips in the root cellar," Jesus explains. "We couldn't get rid of them. Saviors left them behind after they raided us."

"That cellar," I say, "is there for a reason. We might have plenty now, but that could change. We gotta look after our own."

"Paul," Gregory says, and I have to do everything not to turn and snap on him because he might take my side. "This farce has gone on long enough. Build the gallows already. You're handy, Margaret. Save the bullets and be done with it."

"Gregory," I warn.

"What? I'm just saying what _everybody_ inside there is thinking."

"Go inside," I order. "Now."

"Come on, Gregory," Enid says, turning to walk with him.

Gregory turns to follow her, then pauses. "You know I'm right."

He walks back inside the Hilltop, escorted by Enid. I step away from the Saviors, Jesus following me. We turn our backs to them, and I scold, "You shouldn't have put us in this position."

"Are you seriously thinking about doing what Gregory said?" Jesus questions.

"Every option's on the table. They have to be."

"What are we fighting for, Maggie?"

"You know."

"Yeah, I thought I did," he returns. "That's why they're here."

"We have to end this and Negan."

"We will. But when we do, we have to make sure what's left is worth the cost of what we lost."

I start to turn to walk away, then look back at Jesus. "You should probably find Clary."

"She's here?" Jesus questions.

"Yeah. She's here."

"What happened?" Jesus questions, paling at the thoughts running through his head. "Who did she lose?"

I glance over at the Saviors, not wanting them to hear what we've lost. I look back to Jesus, telling him, "You need to go, Jesus. She's gonna need someone else there."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

It's quiet without Eric.

Before, there was always some sort of sound. A record spinning on a turntable, laughter at one of Aaron's cheesy jokes. Eric would always make sure his fiddle was in tune, his music drifting through the house as I worked on my motorcycle in the garage. Or there'd be a pointless debate about cryptids; Eric used to joke that he would marry Mothman before he'd marry Aaron.

Now, it's just silence.

Tears prick my eyes, and I close them, listening. At the other end of the couch, I listen to Aaron's breathing. _He's still here_ , I have to remind myself. _He's still here._

I remember the conversation I had with Eric the day after I killed Aiden, one phrase sticking out above it all. " _I don't want to see you die."_ I wipe my eyes, sniffling, as Eric's words the day we met the Scavengers come to mind. " _I want us alive. All three of us."_

"We should've gone," I say, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. "We should've gone. We should've gone!" I let out a sob, shaking. "We should've gone when he wanted to go! We should've just left! Why'd we go after Gabriel? Why did I agree to?! We should've gone! _I should've listened! We should've left when we had the chance!"_

Aaron suddenly hugs me, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he weeps. We're both sobbing as I cling to him, terrified of having to let go. "I want him back," Aaron sobs, clutching me tighter. "Please, please, please, Clary, stay back. Let Rick lead the charge from now on. I can't lose my little girl, too."

I weakly protest, "I ain't little."

Aaron lets out a halfhearted chuckle that mixes with another sob. He leans back on the couch, pulling me into his lap as I put my head on his chest. Sobs turn into sniffles and shaky breathing. "Did I ever tell you how we met?" Aaron questions after a long silence, interrupted by the occasional sniffle.

"You knew each other before, right? You were together in the Niger River Delta?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" Aaron asks, looking down at me. "The only time I think I mentioned it was to Rick in—"

"In the barn," I finish. "When we first met. I remember."

Aaron runs a gentle hand through my hair, and I immediately lean into his hand. "Don't stop," I mumble, letting out a soft sigh as he continues and closing my eyes. "Tell me more about Dad?"

"You got it," Aaron says. "We met through the NGO. The last time we were in the Delta was a little under a year before the turn. We were dating some before that, but it wasn't serious. Until this drug lord stuck a gun in my face, that is. God, I thought Eric was gonna kill him. Two weeks later, we were back in DC. Another week, he moved in with me."

"So you were together before the turn?" I ask.

Aaron nods. "Mmhmm. It was a little under a month before, I bought a ring. I made reservations at this really nice restaurant for November 2."

I let out a small laugh. "That's my birthday."

"Well, happy belated birthday. I wish you would've told me sooner." Aaron sighs, lifting my head as his chest rises. "I was gonna propose then, but you know what happened. I kept the ring with me the entire time. I, uh, I kinda forgot about it for a while. Put it on the back burner. Then when I almost lost him, after your group saved him, I decided it was about damn time. The night before Daryl and I left, I asked him. Said I always wanted to be a Raleigh."

"What'd he say?" I ask, opening my eyes to look up at him.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," I admit, lifting my head from his chest. "I thought he'd say yes, but I've never seen him wearing a ring." I take Aaron's hand, running my finger over the spot that would've been covered by a wedding band. "You don't, either."

"We didn't want to lose them out there," Aaron tells me. I put my head back on Aaron's chest, and he goes back to stroking my hair. He kisses my forehead, murmuring, "I don't want to lose you out there."

"You won't," I whisper. "I'm done goin' out there. I can't, not anymore."

I lift my head from Aaron's chest as there's a knock on the door, Jesus poking his head in. "Hey," he says softly. "Maggie said you were here. Can I come in?"

Aaron waves him in, and we sit up as Jesus closes the door behind him. His eyes flick over the room, searching for Eric. A look of understanding and sadness flickers across his face when he realizes that he isn't here. "Oh, god," Jesus says softly, leaning against the wall. "I'm… I'm sorry."

His eyes are on me, watching for my reaction. Aaron glances from Jesus to me, then back to Jesus. "I'll give you two some space," Aaron says. "I'll find you later, sweetheart." He gets up, pausing as he passes Jesus. "Take care of her."

"You got it," Jesus promises, just like he did the last time Aaron left Jesus and I. We're both silent until Aaron leaves, and I don't meet his eyes. Jesus sits beside me, moving to wrap his arm around my shoulders. I cut him off before he can, whispering, "Don't."

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, lowering his arm. Instead, he sits right beside me, not touching me.

"You're doin' an awful lot of apologizing," I tell him.

"We've all been doing an awful lot of that lately," Jesus replies. He rests his hand, palm up, on his knee, silently offering me his hand. I raise my hand, going to take his, then pause. I drop my hand, not looking at Jesus. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I just… I can't."

"It's alright," Jesus tells me, but there's something in his voice that tells me that it isn't.

"It's not just you," I try to tell him. "It's everyone. I'm trying, but I can't… I don't…"

"You just want to be with Aaron," Jesus says softly. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," I apologize yet again, then chuckle humorlessly. "How many times have we said 'I'm sorry,' Paul?"

"Far too many," he replies with a soft sigh. Jesus gets to his feet, offering me his hand. "I'll walk you to Aaron, wherever he got to."

I put my hand in Jesus's, and he pulls me to my feet. I suddenly wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. Jesus hugs me tightly, not letting go even when I try to pull back. Five minutes probably pass before he even loosens his grasp, and Jesus frowns as I pull away from him. "I think I'm gonna head up to Barrington," I tell Jesus. "Look for Maggie."

"She was on her way back there," Jesus tells me. "You want me to walk you?"

"No, I'll be alright. You see Aaron around, tell him where I am, alright?" Jesus nods. "And Paul? Thank you."

"Anything for you, poppet," Jesus replies. "You need me, I'll be just outside the gate. Someone's gotta keep watch over the Saviors."

"Saviors?" I repeat.

"You didn't see them when you got here?"

"I had a lot on my mind," I reply sadly, glancing away as I blink back tears.

"Right, sorry," Jesus says. "Like I said, you need anything, don't hesitate."

He holds open the door for me, closing it behind us as we exit his trailer. We go our separate ways; Jesus returns to the Saviors, keeping watch over them, while I make my way into Barrington, finding Maggie in what was once Gregory's office.

"Hey," Maggie says softly, rising from her chair as she sees me enter. "How are you doing? You okay? You holding up?"

I shake my head, unable to speak. Maggie offers her arms, and I can't say no to her. I step up to her, and she wraps me in a tight hug, murmuring, "If you need anything, let me know, alright?"

"Can I stay in here for a bit?" I question. "Aaron'll know I'm here, and I don't really want to see anyone out there."

"Of course," Maggie replies, brushing my hair back. She presses a kiss to my forehead before releasing me. I lay down on the couch, catching sight of Gregory standing in the corner; but I choose to ignore him. He's not worth it, not right now. My fingers go to Jesus's bandana tied around my wrist, playing with the black fabric to distract myself.

Gregory clears his throat before he begins, "People who aren't leaders always think they know better, hmm?"

Maggie lifts her eyes from where she ran her fingers over Glenn's pocket watch, meeting mine for a second before she looks at Gregory. "Excuse me?"

"You know, they're always pointing the finger at the guy—or, yeah, sure, gal—who's sitting in the hot seat. Truth is, it's not so easy."

"I don't know," Maggie returns. "It was pretty easy for me not to sell out the Hilltop to Negan."

"Go ahead, judge me, Margaret," Gregory says, pushing himself out of his corner as he approaches Maggie's desk. "What I did was in the best interest of this community."

"How?"

"My approach didn't employ _bullets._ Connect the dots."

Maggie leans forward in her chair, resting her elbows against the desk. "You were scared. You tried to cut a deal to save your own hide."

"Not just my hide," Gregory tries to defend himself. "My motives were pure. I know, Maggie, we've had our differences; but I've sat in that chair. I _can_ help. I'm an experienced leader, unlike Charlie over there, who seems to be making it up as she goes along. I'm already in the room."

"So I can keep an eye on you while I think," Maggie says, her eyes darting to where I remain on the catch, not responding to Gregory's jab at my leadership capabilities.

"'Keep an eye on me,'" Gregory scoffs. "You need someone to tell you it's okay to follow your gut. And guess what? I'm that guy. And our little hippy-dippy kung-fu fighting friend may try and make you feel bad about it. But at the end of the day, you're the shepherd. And you can't have wolves wandering around amidst the sheep. It's as simple as that."

I get up from the couch then, walking over to Gregory. I lean down, staring him down, as I hiss, "What have I told you about threatening my right hand man, Gregory?" I straighten, starting for the door. "I'll leave you to think about it, jackass."

As I leave Maggie's office behind, I hear Gregory say, "See what I mean about wolves?"

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

We can all hear it, the pounding of the hammers, the sawing of wood. We can all hear the men working through the night, building whatever Maggie ordered them to build. I try to peer in through a crack in the wall, but I can't see anything due to the workers' stalls being in the way.

"What're they building?" Alden questions.

I know Maggie well enough to know that she won't listen to Gregory. I don't admit that to the Saviors, though, instead telling them, "Don't worry about it."

"Did you sign up for this?" Alden asks. "When you joined the group?"

I turn away from the wall, my back to the Saviors as I look out into the night. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear walkers growling.

"You know, I was by myself for a while," Alden continues, not shutting his mouth. "Until I found a safe place. A bunch of survivors, a bunch of tough guys. Eventually, one of 'em took over, and then another one took over. I wasn't really paying much attention 'cause I was getting fed. I'm good with my hands. They sent me over to the satellite place to put up a fence. Now, here we are. Now, my life depends on the lady in charge in there."

"You can stop now," I say, turning around to look at him. "Don't pretend that any of us are innocent."

"What do they call you, Jesus?" Alden questions. "Well, Jesus, I'm, uh, I'm no angel. I never said I was. Ain't no such thing."

* * *

It's midday when the hammering stops.

The gate swings open, the Saviors all leaning forward to see who it is. Enid emerges, announcing, "Maggie says to bring them in."

I get the Saviors to their feet, leading them into the Hilltop. Instead of a gallows, a pen has been built to hold the Saviors. We pass by Clary, the Saviors each taking a few seconds to look at her as they follow me to the pen Maggie has built. Murmurs go through the prisoners, whispers of "That's her" and "Alexandria's leader was a _kid_?" Then, Alden, who's figured out by now who she lost and why she has that title, says, "Her parents are dead. She really is the Orphan."

Clary lifts her chin, ignoring the Saviors, as Aaron rests his hand on her back. I look to Maggie, and she tells me, "Get them in."

I stop by the gate of the pen, calling, "Come on. Two at a time."

As the Saviors file in, Maggie announces, "Starting now, we'll keep the prisoners here. We'll feed 'em. We won't mistreat them. But we won't stand for anything less than total cooperation."

"Uh, Margaret," Gregory interrupts, "all due respect, uh, just straight-shooting here—we can't let people that we don't trust run around inside our walls."

"You're right, Gregory," Maggie agrees. "In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about what you told me yesterday. See, I grew up on a farm. I know all about sheep and wolves. Kal, Eduardo."

Without another word, Kal and Eduardo step forward, taking Gregory's arms. "What're you doing?" Gregory questions.

"Come on, Gregory," Kal says.

The two start to pull him down towards the pen, Gregory protesting, "What, are you serious? Eduardo! This can't—"

"Calm down," Eduardo orders. Gregory fights them, but Kal and Eduardo simply continue pulling him along towards the pen.

"No! I am not gonna go in there! Don't tell me to calm down!" Gregory exclaims. He manages to pull himself from their grasps, trying to get away from them. He makes a lunge for someone in the crowd, and by the time I realize he's going after Clary, I'm too late to stop it.


	7. 6: Four White Walls

**AN: Before this starts, I want to mention the midseason finale for season nine. And by wanting to mention it, I mean that I want to forget it ever happened. So please enjoy this chapter that heavily features Jesus instead. Or don't, 'cause it's highkey depressing. BewareTheWalkers out.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Four White Walls**

 _ **~Aaron~**_

Gregory lunges for Clary before any of us can react, knocking her to the ground. I draw my gun without a second though, pistol whipping Gregory and knocking him off of my daughter. I aim my gun at Gregory, snapping, " _Nobody_ touches her!"

He presses his hand to his head, still crying and begging. Blood runs down from his temple, down his cheek and to his collar. Eduardo and Kal grab him again, and he doesn't put up a fight this time as they drag him into the pen. I follow him with my gun, lowering it once he's in. Clary remains on the ground, curling in on herself and hiding her face with her arm.

Dianne moves to close the gate to the pen and chain it after they exit, but the long haired Savior thinks that it's a good idea to try to go after her. Maggie's faster, hitting him with the butt of her rifle. I step forward, one hand hovering above my pistol, ready to defend Maggie, need be. The same step is also making Clary stay behind me, until I realize that she hasn't moved.

The Savior sighs, brushing his hair out of his face after he checks to see if his temple is bleeding. "Oh, honey," he says, then looks up at Maggie. "You're gonna get these people killed. Well, you already got some people killed, didn't ya?" The Savior gestures towards Clary with his head. "How do you think the Orphan over there got her name?"

I kneel in front of Clary, blocking her from the view of the Saviors. Clary tries to fight me at first when I attempt to pull her arms away from her face, but she gives in when she sees that it's me. "Did he hurt you?" I question.

"Not physically," Clary replies, her voice barely above a whisper. I help her sit, cradling her in my arms. She has a smudge of dirt on her cheek from Gregory knocking her to the ground. I lick my thumb, rubbing it against her cheek to clean the dirt. Clary doesn't react, just stares ahead at something. I follow her gaze, only to see that she's looking at the graves of Glenn and Abraham. I question, "Have you been by yet?"

Clary shakes her head. I keep my arm around her as we get to our feet, Clary leaning against my chest. I keep my back to the Saviors, my daughter in front of me. "You okay, sweetheart?" I question.

"Gotta be," Clary immediately replies, without even thinking about it. I give her a look, and she bites her lip before saying, "No, I'm not. I'm far from. These people just watched me get knocked down quite a few rungs. Ever since Negan found out you adopted me, he's been callin' me 'the Orphan,' even though my birth parents were _never_ my parents. It's not just the Saviors that are seeing me as weak now, and there's not a damn thing I can do because, for once, I _am_ weak. So, no, Aaron, I am _not_ okay. I'm not even close."

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

I pause for a moment when I see a walker caught in a trap, not unlike the ones Mogan had back in King County. I start forward, planning on killing the walker, but someone else beats me to it. I quickly recognize him as the man I'm looking for, the man Clary and I saw the day before it all started. I call out, "Hey."

His head snaps up at my voice, and I raise my hands, a bag of food and water in one, to show him I mean no harm. "It was my dad," I tell him, taking a few steps closer. "They were warning shots above your head. He wasn't shooting at you. I'm Carl."

"Siddiq," he replies after glancing around for a few seconds, making sure there's no one lurking in the woods, waiting to fire more warning shots above his head.

I hold up my bag, showing it to him. "Food and water."

"Why?" Siddiq questions.

"I guess… you were talking about something your mom said. About helping people. My mom told me that you gotta do what's right. It's hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not."

I throw the bag towards him, and it lands just a few feet in front of him. Siddiq lowers his knife, dropping to his knees and ripping open the bag. He opens the water first, chugging half of the bottle. When Siddiq pauses to breath, he lifts his head, telling me, "Thanks.

"I'm glad I found you," I tell Siddiq as he gets to his feet, putting the food in the pocket of his coat.

"You were looking for me?" Siddiq questions. "What about that girl, the one that was with you?"

"Clary," I supply. "She's, um…"

"Dead?"

"What? No! No, she's at a community we're allied with. But she'd be here if she was back home. Clary, my dad, and I, we're in a community." Hope shines in his eyes as he looks at me. "I'm gonna ask you a few questions. I need you to answer honestly, okay?" He nods. "How many walkers have you killed? I know it's hard to keep track—"

"Two hundred and thirty-seven."

I can't help but chuckle because he rattled off the number without even thinking. "Really?"

Siddiq glances at the walker he just killed. "Give or take a couple."

"How many people have you killed?"

"One."

"Why?"

"The dead tried to kill him. They didn't."

"You're making walker traps," I observe. "Is that how you're killing so many?"

"Part of it," he replies. "My mom thought—or hoped, I guess—that killing them would free their souls." I give him a small smile because it's rare to find people that care that much about humanity nowadays. "You know, maybe she was right."

"Doesn't that make things harder for you while you're trying to survive?" I inquire.

"I don't know," Siddiq says. "I guess I never really thought about it. But you gotta honor your parents, right?"

"If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn't be talking right now," I joke. "And I definitely wouldn't bring you back to my community." I turn in the direction of Alexandria, gesturing for Siddiq to follow with a jerk of my head. "Come with me."

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

We're all silent in Maggie's office, aside from the occasional fuss from Gracie as Maggie shifts her in her arms. Clary sits in my lap, her head against my shoulder. There are other chairs, but I don't mind, even if my leg has fallen asleep. I keep my arms wrapped around her, relishing in the fact that she's still here. I absentmindedly toy with her hair, which now reaches the bottom of her shoulder blades. Eric braided it for her after she was shot, and had taken to braiding it every night after that. For a split second, I find myself wondering why he didn't braid it last night.

"I keep… forgetting he's gone," I say, glancing up from Clary. "I have this… weight. There's moments when I think I'll see him, that I'll, um… be able to talk about how I'm feeling with him. And then my mind catches up, and I remember that the pain is about knowing that'll never happen."

"I know that feeling," Maggie says.

"Does it get easier?"

"No. But it helps to do something about it."

" _Dolor hic tibi proderit olim,"_ Clary says, speaking for the first time in a while. "'Someday this pain will be useful to you.' It's what Deanna used to say."

Before I can stop myself, in my best Abraham voice, I question, "'Who's Deanna?'"

Maggie chuckles softly, remembering it; and Clary elbows me gently in the ribs. "I saw him, you know," Clary murmurs. "That night, here. I saw Abe and Glenn."

"Jesus said he found you with them," I recall.

"That's not what I meant. I _saw_ them. And I know they weren't real, but… I felt them, you know?" Clary sighs. "Maybe I'm just losing my mind."

"I think you're just as sane as I am," Jesus says from the doorway. A small smile flickers on Clary's lips, as if Jesus has said that to her before.

Maggie looks up at Jesus, questioning, "How is he?"

"Gregory's fine," Jesus answers, closing the door behind him. "He's trying to suck up to the Saviors now. I just wanted to say… I think you did the right thing. I wanted to thank you."

"Don't," Maggie orders. Gracie starts to cry, so Maggie gets up, rocking her as she walks around the room. "The Saviors in that pen might be bargaining chips. Maybe we'll have to trade them for some of our own people." Jesus bows his head. "They're alive because we might need 'em. Jesus." Maggie turns to face him, and Jesus lifts his head. "If we don't… we can't let 'em live."

 _It has to end,_ I realize. _It has to end, but we don't have enough people to end it. But maybe... I don't know if it'll work, but I have to try._

I nudge Clary, and she gets up to allow me to stand. I rest my hand on her arm, telling her, "Stay with Jesus, okay?" I press a kiss to her temple, the same place I always kiss; where her scar is from the bullet she took for Eric and I. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Dad," Clary responds. I nod to Jesus as I pass, and he claps my shoulder as he steps farther into the room. I head outside, hoping like hell that Clary stays away from the windows until I'm gone.

I grab my stuff, putting it in the backseat. I close the door, and I hear Enid question, "Where are you going?"

I sigh, knowing that every second that passes as I speak to Enid is another second closer to Clary seeing me leaving and following out beyond the walls. "To make sure we win," I answer, leaning against the open driver's door.

"Let me come with you," Enid requests. I start to protest, but Enid cuts me off before I can. "You're right. We need to win."

I bow my head, making my decision quickly. "Grab your stuff. And some food. We might be gone for a while." Enid turns to leave, but pauses when I add, "And Enid? Don't tell Clary. Please. I can't lose her, too."

Enid simply nods in understanding before taking off, retrieving her supplies before we take off to find our shot at winning this war.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I wrap my arms around myself as I watch Aaron walk out of Maggie's office, feeling the uneasiness that comes with being separated from Aaron growing. I hate it; anything could happen to him, and I'd be powerless to stop it.

Jesus claps Aaron's shoulder as he passes, closing the door after him. I bow my head, and Jesus wraps his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. I latch onto him, closing my eyes. He runs a hand through my hair, cradling my head in his hand. Jesus presses a kiss to the top of my head, murmuring, "How are you doing, poppet?"

I hold on tighter, whispering, "I just want it to go back to normal."

"You and me both," Jesus says with a sigh, taking a seat in the chair Aaron had previously been in. I sit on his lap, pressing my face into his shoulder. Jesus simply holds me, instead of making a koala joke like I know he's waiting to make.

I lift my head from Jesus's shoulder when I hear a car start, getting to my feet. I go to the window, opening the curtains as Aaron's car pulls towards the gate. I watch him leave, unable to do anything. My hands tighten around the curtains, a white-knuckled grip.

Aaron left without me. He left me behind. I want to run after him, but I have to keep the promise I made Eric. At the same time, I can't lose Aaron, too. It'll kill me.

I don't even realize I'm shaking until I feel Jesus's hands on mine, softly murmuring, "Hey, easy. Let go of the curtains, poppet. They didn't do anything to you."

He pries my hands from the curtains, turning me to face him. Jesus takes my face in his hands, pressing his forehead against mine. Those hands, ones that are as familiar as my brother's or my dad's. Those hands, soft against my skin. Gentle as always, but able to pack a punch. Those hands, warm and tender and _alive_.

"Hey, hey, hey, Clary," Jesus says. "Clary, can you focus for me? Focus on my voice, okay? Just listen to me. I need you to stay with me. I need you here." He just keeps talking, rambling almost, as he tries to pull me from my mind. "Stay with me, Cheyenne, please."

"He left me," I whisper, wrapping my hands around Jesus's. "He-he-he left me. Why?"

"I can't answer that for him," Jesus replies. "But I'll be here. I'm not going to leave you."

I pull away from Jesus's forehead, instead resting my head against his shoulder, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. "Take me home," I softly request. "Please, Paul. I just want to go home."

"You got it," Jesus murmurs, gently stroking my hair. "Maggie?"

"Yeah?" Maggie questions.

"I'm taking Clary to Alexandria. Will you be okay here? Need anything while I'm gone?"

"No, I'll be okay," Maggie replies. "Drive safe, you two."

"C'mon," Jesus murmurs, gently urging me towards the door. "Let's get you home."

Jesus keeps his arm around me, hand resting on my arm, as we walk down to his car, parked somewhat close to the Saviors' pen. The Saviors, upon seeing us, crowd towards the fence. One of them lets out a wolf whistle. Aside from a blond guy, all of the Saviors join in, calling, "Look who it is! The Orphan! Hey, sweetheart, where you off to?"

"Stay here," Jesus orders, crossing the lawn between the path and the pen in a few strides. He draws his gun, aiming it at the first Savior to start whistling—the one with the long hair that went after Dianne. He growls, "You leave her alone. You don't look at her, you don't talk to her. Any one of you say another goddamn word to her, you'll _all_ be swinging from the gallows. Get it, got it, good."

With that final threat, Jesus lowers his gun and walks back to me. He opens the car door for me, glaring down at the Saviors before climbing in the driver's seat. Kal already has the gate opened as we're pulling up to it, and I watch it close in the mirror behind us. I glance towards Jesus as he drives, and I finally say, "Hey, Jesus?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For everything you've done for me."

"Your obedient servant," Jesus says with a grin, then glances towards me before taking my hand. "In all seriousness, Clary, it's why I'm here. Because you'd do the same for me."

"Daryl wanted to leave you in a tree," I tell him.

Jesus snorts in amusement. "I remember. But you didn't. You stood up for me."

We fall into a silence that Jesus breaks a few minutes later, stating, "I have an idea."

"Hit me," I tell him.

"Alright, so after this is over," he begins, "you and me, we get Daryl drunk. I don't know, maybe we could do it just as he's sleeping. That part's up in the air. But basically, while he's out, we take him and we put him up a tree. And we leave him there. Not a tree outside the walls, of course. I'm not that mean. Just a tree in Alexandria."

I have to smile, even if it's just a tiny one. "Alright. That will be our first order of business, post war. It's not gonna be rebuilding the world. It's gonna be leaving Daryl in a tree."

* * *

The gate opens as Jesus slows to a stop in front of it, and he pulls in, parking along the wall. The gate doesn't close behind us, but that's because someone else is returning. "Carl?" I question, at first in confusion. "Why were you out—oh my god!"

I cut myself off when I see the blood on his clothes, and he joins Jesus and I. I grab his arms, checking them for bites as I demand, "What the hell happened?"

"Hey, hey, I'm okay," Carl tells me, grasping my hands in his before I can check any further. "I've survived worse. I'm still here."

"How can you say _that?"_ I question, jerking my hands back. "You've 'survived worse.' Why did you survive that bullet?"

I jab my finger into his stomach, right at the place where I know his scar is. Carl closes his eye as it dawns on him, slowly saying, "This is about your dad."

"Every time I find something good in this god awful life, it gets taken away from me! I had a family for once in my life! For the _first time_ in my life! I had something other than just my brother! And now it's gone! He's gone! Why did you survive and he didn't?!"

"Clary, I'm so sorry," Carl murmurs.

"Why do _I_ have to lose?! Why does it _always_ have to be _me?!"_

"Clary," Carl starts, then pauses for a moment. "Clary, yelling at me like this isn't going to bring Eric back. It won't bring back anyone that you've lost or… or anyone that you're going to lose."

"You don't think I know that?!" I question, choking back at a sob. "Eric's gone and Aaron took off! And Daryl? I haven't seen my brother since that godforsaken outpost! It's why Jesus brought me back. I had no one else to."

"You know you're not alone, right?" Carl softly asks, taking my hand. "I mean, you got Jesus. You got everyone in Alexandria. You got me." Carl pulls me forward, wrapping me in a hug. "You need to talk about it, you know I'm there. You were there for me."

"Thank you," I whisper, resting my forehead in the crook of his neck as I wrap my arms around his waist. "Carl, I'm really sorry. That shit that I said, I didn't mean a word of it. I'm so glad you're still here."

"It's okay," Carl tells me, gently running a hand through my hair. "I completely understand everything you're going through. It hurts, and it sucks. Every little thing that happens, you think of how it would happen if they were there. You just… it's like, you can't focus on anything 'cause your mind keeps drifting back to them, drifting to the last moment you were together. And you don't know how to deal with it, 'cause you never even had to _think_ about losing your mom or your dad."

"Carl," I murmur. "Why do I keep losing?"

"I don't know, baby," he whispers. "Do you want to come back tonight? I mean, uh, stay with Michonne and I? Well, whenever Michonne gets back. You don't have to be in the house by yourself."

"I'd rather be there," I reply. "But thank you for the offer."

"Any time," Carl replies. "And it always stands, by the way."

I turn to Jesus as he lightly tugs on my jacket, questioning, "You want me to walk you home?"

"Will you?" I request. Jesus gestures for me to follow him with a jerk of his head. I glance back at Carl. "I'll see you around, then."

"I'll stop in later," Carl tells me.

I catch up with Jesus, and he takes my hand as we walk down the street. I question, "Do you have to be back at the Hilltop today?"

"Do you want me to stay overnight?" Jesus returns, answering my question with a question.

"Can you?" He nods. "Thank you."

"You need someone," Jesus says as we turn onto my street. "Wait, when did you leave Rick's house?"

"After Aaron and I got back from the Hilltop," I answer. "Carl and I, we were fighting more. I was so stressed because Negan had Daryl, I was still working through everything that happened that night at the Hilltop. I just had to get out of there, and I did. Aaron and…" I trail off, unable to bring myself to say his name. "They told me there'd always be room for me with them, and Aaron had promised Daryl when we first came to Alexandria that he'd look out for me if anything ever happened." Jesus and I pause at the steps, and I turn to look at him. "I, uh, I was the first person in my group to trust Aaron. Everyone else doubted him."

"Maybe it's a good thing you did," Jesus remarks as he follows me up the stairs. "We wouldn't be standing here, having this conversation, if you didn't."

"I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for a lot of things." Jesus stops in the doorway, leaning against the door after he closes it. I stop when I realize he's no longer following me, turning to look back at him. "Jesus?"

"Clary, are we… are we ever going to talk about that night?" Jesus questions, his voice thick with emotion. "If I hadn't gotten there when I did, would you have… would you…"

It takes me a long minute to answer, and when I finally do, I wish I never did. "Yes."

"Clary," Jesus says, his voice cracking in the middle of my name.

"You saw me that night," I sadly say, unable to meet his eyes. "I thought I had no one. I did, after. And now, I don't."

"Why are you always so keen on forgetting me?" Jesus questions.

I have to stop for a moment. Why _do_ I always exclude Paul from my list of people? "Because… because it's hard to be there when you're with another community. When you're always out scavenging."

"I know," Jesus murmurs, not meeting my eyes. "I'll get better. I'll be there. I'll give you my word."

"Words fail, Paul," I say. "We tried to talk to Negan, we tried to make alliances with the Scavengers. It failed, all of it. And now, here we are. Losing our people. Rick hasn't been heard from in two days because his dumb ass is out there trying to make a deal with people that have already turned on us. Daryl and Aaron went off on their own. The Saviors killed my dad!"

My hands are shaking again. _I'm_ shaking again. Jesus starts to take a step forward, reaching for my hands. I jerk them back, telling him, "Please don't touch me."

Jesus retracts his hands. "Okay," he says after a moment. "You tell me when."

I turn away from him, telling him, "Don't follow me."

I climb the stairs, entering my room and leaving the door open behind me. I know Jesus will be looking for me soon, anyway. I grab the pack of cigarettes I had stashed, hidden because Eric always yelled at me for smoking. My room faces the backyard, the wall in the distance. I open the window, climbing out on the roof that was built over the back porch. I dangle my leg over the edge, grabbing a cigarette from the pack. I let it dangle between my teeth as I search my pocket for my lighter, finding it when I feel the cool metal. I flip open my Zippo, smiling softly as I hear the familiar sound. I light the cigarette, taking a drag on it and glancing over my shoulder for Jesus. I hope he gives me enough time to finish my cigarette, as he's been giving me hell since he found out I smoked.

I tried to quit, you know. I really did. _There's just certain things that I can't give up,_ I think as I glance in the direction of the Grimes house.

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

"Don't follow me," Clary says, possibly the worst words I could hear from her. The words that strike fear into my heart. The last time we were alone and she went off on her own, she almost killed herself.

She leaves me alone in an unfamiliar place, and I can hear her footsteps as she climbs the stairs. I cross my arms, drumming my fingers as I try to decide if I should go after her or not.

I eventually can't stand it anymore and climb the stairs. I don't know which room is hers, but I see the door to a room on the left open. I step inside when I see Clary's bag by the bed, one of the windows open. I climb out it, only to find Clary standing on the edge of the roof. Her eyes are closed, her face expressionless.

I lunge forward, grabbing her arm and jerking her back. Grey eyes shoot open in surprise, and I quickly wrap my arms around her the moment I've pulled her back inside. I hold her close, the scent of leather filling my nose. The bitter smell of smoke clings to her, and I open my eyes as I look down at her, asking, "Were you smoking?"

"I had to," Clary replies.

"Clary."

"It's better than me getting shitfaced drunk or high off my ass."

"Those things'll kill you."

"I have other things to worry about, Paul."

"Like trying to jump off a roof before I find you?" I challenge. "God, Clary, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't going to jump!" Clary exclaims. "Why does everyone think that I'm _always_ gonna jump?"

"Because you have a _death wish_ , Cheyenne," I return. "We never know what you're going to do. And we prepare for the worst… because you've tried to… you've tried to…" I'm getting choked up, unable to get any words out without crying. This girl is my best friend, one of my first friends since this all began. I can't lose her. I can't even stand to _think_ about losing her. "You've tried to… you told me that you were going to…"

"I'm not, okay?" Clary tells me. "I won't kill myself. These four white walls may be keeping me trapped in this lonely little place called home, but I'm not as alone as I thought I once was. I'm staying alive because… because Eric made me promise. He made me promise that I'd stay alive for Aaron."

"And stay alive for me, too," I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers and closing my eyes. Clary wraps her hands around my wrists, rubbing her thumbs over the back of my hands. "Please, poppet. Stay alive."

"I will. This is the promise that I'll keep. The one that I'll _always_ keep. For Aaron, for Eric, for you. For Daryl and for Carl." I open my eyes, displeased that the contact ended so quickly, when Clary pulls away. "I think you should get back to the Hilltop. The sun'll still be up when you get back to Hilltop."

"Where are you going?" I question.

"I'm gonna head over to Carl's, I think. We got some things to work out." Clary gets up , offering me her hand. "C'mon, I'll walk you out."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I walked Jesus to the gate, then watched him leave before I made my way to the Grimes house. That's all it was now, as Daryl and I had moved in with Aaron and Eric. _Just Aaron now_ , I have to remind myself. _I miss him so much._

I climb the familiar stairs, glancing at the house number as I pass it. 101, the second of the two houses given to my group when we first arrived. I raise my hand, knocking on the door. "Unless you're a Grimes or Dixon, go away," Carl calls, and I notice a catch in his voice.

"How about a Raleigh?" I question through the door, resting my head against the window. I take a step back when I hear footsteps quickly approaching, Carl pulling open the door. The very first thing that I notice is that his eye is red and watery. "Hey, what's going on?" I immediately ask. "Why are you crying? What happened?"

"Clary, when I told you…" Carl starts, then chokes on a sob. "When I told you I was okay, I, uh, I lied. There's something I need to show you."

"Carl, baby, you're scaring me," I tell him as he pulls me inside, closing the door behind us. "Tell me what happened."

"Do you remember the guy that we saw, the day before it all happened? The one that we tried to talk to, but my dad fired 'warning shots' at?"

"Yeah…"

"I found him again. His name's Siddiq. I'm not gonna tell you where he is. You have to promise me that you won't hurt him. It's not his fault."

"Carl?" I question, pulling my hands away from him. My heart starts beating faster, the fear flowing through my veins.

"Promise me," Carl pleads.

"Okay," I say after a moment. "I-I won't hurt him."

"Thank you," Carl sighs. "I needed you to know that it's not his fault."

"What the hell happened, Carl?" I question. By now, I'm so terrified that I'm shaking.

"Do you remember Jesse?"

"You _know_ I remember Jesse."

"And Jim?"

"Carl, what are you getting at?" I whisper.

"Come here, please," Carl says softly, so softly that I feel myself stepping towards him before I can even process his words. He drops his hat to the ground, then pulls his shirt off and lets it fall beside his hat. His eye is overflowing with tears as he reaches towards the bandage on his right side, just a few inches above the scar from the bullet. Just a few inches above from where I poked earlier. "Clary?" he whispers.

Carl looks up, meeting my eyes as I stare in confusion, unable to comprehend anything. I can only whisper, " _No_."

"I love you so much," Carl whispers. "I never stopped. And I know you didn't, either. And I'll love you for the rest of my short life."

In one motion, he tears his gaze from mine and tears off the bandage.

* * *

 _ **~Carl~**_

I can't see her face. I can't do it.

I can't look at Clary as I show her the the wound that signed my death certificate. The wound that has me marked for a fate worse than death.

I can't look at Clary as she sees my bite.

"No," Clary sobs. "No, no, no! _No!_ " She repeats the same word, getting louder until she's screaming it and crying all at once. "No, please! No!"

"I'm sorry," I say, pulling her into my arms after pressing the bandage back against the bite. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't want to go."

And then, she's wailing.

I've never seen a Dixon break, but let me tell you, it'll haunt you forever.

We both fall to the ground, and I hold Clary. She presses herself against my skin, clutching me, her nails scratching my back; but I don't care. This is one of the last times we're ever gonna be this close, be together. I'll let Clary do whatever the hell she wants. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her, but she's going to spend the rest of hers without me.

* * *

 **AN: shoutout to my friend Flor for writing the song that inspired the title of this chapter, "Four White Walls." Also, I just realized that every chapter in this book, except for "Nothing to Lose," is either named after a song or the lyrics to that song.**


	8. 7: This World Will Remember Us

**Chapter 7: This World Will Remember Us**

 _ **~Clary~**_

It's been one hour since I found out, five since Carl was bitten.

Test Subject 19 had thirty-two hours. Carl has twenty-seven left.

I haven't moved from his side, and I've taken off my jacket and flannel, leaving me in a tank top as I press myself against him, wanting to feel as much of his skin as possible. Carl's arms snakes around my waist, his fingers tracing the scars on my back. Carl's fingers go to one of my newest scars, the one on my shoulder from Dwight's bullet. He presses his lips to it, and I reach over, unwrapping the bandage from his head. "I want to see it," I murmur. "I want to see _you_."

Carl pulls back for just a moment, his hair falling in his face as he looks down at me. I brush it back, telling him, "I know I said it before, but everything I said to you… I'm so sorry. I shoulda just listened to you when you told me not to go back out."

"We don't know what would've happened if you didn't," Carl replies, leaning forward and softly kissing me. I instantly melt into his lips, into his touch and taste. _God, I'm gonna miss this._ "But let's not talk about the past."

"We don't have a future," I say. "You're… you're gonna die, and I… I'm gonna kill Negan. No matter what it costs me. The only way out of this… we both die."

"You'd leave Aaron?" Carl questions. "Leave Daryl?"

"I promised Eric I'd do everything to stay alive for Aaron, but… well, we both know I'm shit at keeping promises. I made them promise me before it all started that they'd stay alive, that they'd fall back if the fight got too hairy. And now Eric's gone. You know, the Saviors, they have names for us? The leaders of the coalition?"

"It's the King and something, right? I think my dad mentioned it in his letter."

"The King, the Orphan, the Widow, and Rick," I answer. "The Saviors that Maggie has at the Hilltop, they keep talking about it. Negan started callin' me the Orphan when Eric told him I was adopted. Now I am, I guess." I look down. "Now that one's dead and the other's MIA."

"I'm sorry," Carl murmurs.

"They've got all these names. Widows, orphans, but… what do you call someone that's lost a child?"

"Clary?" Carl questions, pulling back from me.

"And I know I just told Jesus that I'd stay alive for him, but I've never kept a promise I made to him."

"Clary, you're not thinking of dying."

"Maybe. I'll do what it takes."

"So you're willing to die?" Carl questions.

"If that's what it takes for us to be together," I answer, kissing him again. "I love you so much, Cowboy."

"Clary, Clary," Carl says, pulling back from me before I can kiss him again. "Hey. I don't want you to die. You've still got a life to live, even if it's gonna be without me. I can't let you die, babe. You can't die. You have to stay alive. For me, for Daryl, for Aaron. For Eric and Jesus. You gotta stay alive and beat this world. I know you can. One day, this world will remember who you were and what you did."

"No," I say softly, shaking my head. "This world will remember _us_."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

What we did. What I did. He knows what I did for them, for Clary and Rick. I'm almost positive that Eugene knows, and my suspicions are only confirmed when Eugene comes to my room. As I open the door for him, I remember what Clary told me in one of her letters when we were planning this.

 _Eugene, he could be a problem. He's a coward, and he's smart. That's a_ very _dangerous combination. Be careful, Dwight. Watch your back, and don't you dare trust him._

"I'm well aware you're the fifth columner," Eugene says, walking inside with his back turned to me. "Green duffle, red paint, workers' guns." Eugene turns around to face me. "It doesn't require a turing-grade decryption to grok the truth that you're the traitor creeping and colluding with AHK."

"AHK?" I question.

"It's an acronym I've concocted. Alexandria, Hilltop, Kingdom. I considered going with KAH but it remains a hair too onomatopoeic. I've been charged by no less than Negan himself with cracking the very calamity you more than likely had a heavy hand in creating. So I need you to cease and desist all betrayals and backstabbery, fronting and Judas-ness A.S.A.P. In exchange, I offer to keep what I know from Negan and the others."

I step closer to Eugene, and he gasps in fear when I grab his collar. I force him back, pushing him down into a chair. I take a second chair, sitting in it in front of Eugene. "Clary was right about you," I say, putting my elbows on my knees and leaning forward just a bit. "She's right about a lot of things. The Saviors are finished. Negan is finished. And this place, what it's been? That's all over."

Eugene looks terrified, like he never considered a possibility where Negan wasn't the one that won.

"Food and water's running low," I continue. "Workers are angry. The Saviors, they're getting scared. And this place _is_ gonna fall. All you have to do to be on the winning side is to stand down. All you have to do is _nothing._ Just wait, let it play out. Can you do that?"

Eugene's considering it, teetering on the line between the two sides of this war.

I try, "You've seen what happens here. Heard the screams." I lean forward even farther, forcing him to look at the scars covering the left side of my face. "Smelled the burning skin. You don't got blood on your hands yet, but that's coming. Once you do those things, you become those things, and there's no going back. No forgetting it."

"What cranks my shaft is being safe," Eugene says. "And here… me being safe means a whole lot of other people are safe. I think about that a great deal." I sigh, stepping back to allow Eugene to get to his feet. "Yes, I'm Negan. And it ain't perfect, but we are the Saviors. We save."

Eugene sidesteps me, starting towards my door. He pauses, turning to look back at me. "Like I said, your cloak-and-dagger on the Q.T. All I ask is that nothing you do nothing that results in harm to anyone inside these walls, and it'll stay that way."

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

"Our people are gonna be at the Sanctuary soon, asking for their surrender," Tara notes as we stand around our truck, watching the Sanctuary through the scope of a rifle. "We're almost there."

I lower the scope from my eye, saying, "That's why we do it. We make it happen."

"So we cover you with crossfire from the upper windows," Michonne says, going over our plan. "You crash the truck into the walkers and through to the building."

"Yup, crack it open," Tara says. "Savior buffet."

"You know the workers will make it away?" Rosita questions. "Up the stairs?"

"They're on the other side of the building," I answer. "They should make it."

"You sure?"

"After we do this, their only choice is to give up."

"It's risky," Michonne notes. "They could see the truck coming."

"There weren't any more weapons at the Saviors' warehouse, right?" Tara questions. "No more rockets for the RPGs. We work with what we got."

"You got me," Morgan says, and we turn as he approaches. "Other snipers, too. Saviors see you coming, we got you covered. Whatever it takes. I want it done. I want them done."

"Good," I say. "So are we doing this or what?"

"Why don't we just wait it out like we planned?" Rosita interjects. "Michonne's right. What you're talking about is risky. Things could go bad."

"The truck with the speakers almost took all those walkers away," Tara argues. "It almost did go bad. Something else could."

"Even if it don't, we don't got the Kingdom fighters no more," I point out. "And if the Saviors wanna put up a fight, we don't got the numbers to make 'em surrender."

"That's why Rick's talking to the Scavengers," Rosita returns.

"You got shot," Tara says. "They lied to us."

"Clary's lied to us," Michonne says. "And we still trust her. You still trust her."

"But you believe the Scavengers now?"

Rosita shakes her head. "No. No, I believe in Rick Grimes."

* * *

Rosita left, unable to continue on with our mission. Tara and Michonne ride with me as I approach the Sanctuary, and the walkie sitting on the seat between us clicks. "Hey, cut that engine," Morgan says from the other side. "Any closer and you'll draw walkers from the yard."

I put the truck in park, cutting the engine. I pass the scope over to Tara after taking a look at my target, at the doors and the walkers surrounding them. "You take fire from the windows, we fire back," Morgan says.

"C'mon," Tara says, opening the door to climb out. "There's a spot for cover by the chutes."

Tara exits, but Michonne remains. I look over at her as she continues to stare ahead, asking, "You up for this?"

"I came here 'cause I wanted to see things for myself," she replies. "I wanted to know that things were gonna work. But you know what? I don't get to know that. None of us do. What I do know is that things are working now. So maybe… we just need to trust that things are gonna keep working because this, what we're about to do, it's not worth risking us."

"It is for me," I say, remembering the promise I made Clary. _We'll make 'em pay._ And I will. "Just is. They gotta pay for what they've done."

"I hope it works," Michonne says. "I really, really do, but I can't do it. I just can't."

Michonne looks to me, and I nod, understanding. "Then you shouldn't."

Michonne leans over, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Be careful."

I nod, and she gets out of the truck. As she goes to close the door, I say, "Hey."

"Yeah?" she questions.

"If I don't make it out of this… tell Clary I love her?"

Michonne pauses for a moment. "She knows."

"I know, but… tell her anyway. Please."

Michonne nods, closing the door. Tara walks around to my side, looking up at me as she says, "We got Morgan and the snipers. We can do this."

"Yeah," I say with a nod. "And we will. Only way, right?"

* * *

 _ **~Rick~**_

I will admit that going back to Jadis was probably not my best nor brightest idea. That is coming across loud and clear as I'm forced to my knees, and Jadis emerges with another Scavenger, the Scavenger leading a walker with metal covering its head, much like the walker Clary and I fought the first time we were here.

I headbutt the Scavenger holding me on my knees, knocking him back as I get up. I knock the Scavenger leading the walker to the ground, commandeering the walker. I fight off the remaining Scavengers with the pole, the walker's head slowly becoming detached from its body. I rip it off, the dead body dropping to the ground.

I spin the pole in my hand, knocking a Savior on the ground below me unconscious. Jadis fires a shot, but she misses me. I drop the walker head as I charge her. We wrestle for the gun, and I get her on the ground. The walker snaps at her, barely a foot from her face, as I press her own gun to her head.

"I'm walking out now," I say, looking up as Scavengers surround me, all armed with guns. "And me walking out means all of you die. My people, there's a lot of them. They won't attack today, but we will attack." I look down at Jadis as she struggles to get away from the snapping teeth of the severed head. "You can play your games. You can draw your pictures, sculpt whatever shit you want—but I _am leaving!_ And after that? Maybe you should just run."

Jadis frees her hand from my grasp, raising it and curling her hand into a fist.

The Scavengers lower their guns.

I lean down, hissing, "Are we done?"

"Yes," Jadis confirms.

I climb off of her, then offer Jadis my still-tied hands. She takes one, and I pull her to her feet.

"Join you," she says. "What then?"

"The Sanctuary is surrounded," I tell her. "Walkers. Twenty deep, at least, all around the compound. You'll come with me there. We'll wait till the others meet us. When they do, we'll ask the lieutenants to surrender. All of us, together. Then, I kill Negan. Me alone. Do we have a deal?"

"After," Jadis begins. "Saviors things our things. Yes and yes."

"It'll be all of ours. You'll get a fourth."

"Half."

"A fourth."

"A fourth, and I sculpt you after. Stand for me." Jadis's eyes dart down to my boxers. "Those off."

I jerk my hands up, gesturing to the rope around them. "These off. No sculpting. My boots and my clothes. Now."

"Fourth," Jadis says quietly, then repeats, "Fourth."

I smirk. And to think, both Clary and Daryl doubted I'd be able to do it on my own. Where are they when you need to show them just how wrong they are?

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I lie back on the bed beside Carl, and he turns on his side, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Why did we wait to get together?" Carl questions.

"You got me," I reply. "But, you know, a couple near death experiences and one greatly exaggerated rumor of my death will get us together."

Carl chuckles. "Fair enough."

"I'm gonna miss this," I suddenly whisper, looking over at him. "We're never going to be together like this."

"You mean we're never gonna sleep together again?"

"Not just that," I say, shaking my head at him. "I mean, just layin' here. Together. Just you and me. Carl, I… I'm never going to be over you. Even with Benjamin, I wasn't _with_ him. I was pissed at you, but I _never_ stopped loving you. No matter what I said."

Carl presses a kiss to my shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I reply. I lay back against him, closing my eyes as Carl wraps his arms around me. Carl questions, "Do you… do you remember how you told me once you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?"

"I never thought of a future until I met you," I reply.

"How young do you think is too young?"

"Depends. Too young for what?"

"For knowing who you want to spend your life with." At that, I lift my head from Carl's chest to look at him; but he won't meet my gaze. "Because for me, it's always been you. And I'm realizing that now more than ever." Carl sighs softly. "You know, before the end of the world, I never thought I'd meet a girl quite like you. I never thought I'd find someone I'd want to marry."

I breathe, "Carl…"

"We've both dreamed of futures for us. We're never gonna have a chance to make them come true. I told myself that I'd try to find the confidence to ask you, just to say that I did… but I can't do it. I can't do that to you."

"Carl," I whisper, then clear my throat. "Carl, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm going to be dead soon, and you'll be alone."

"Carl, I'm a dead girl walking."

"We're both dead, then. So what do I have to lose, you know? When you're dead…"

"You can live forever," I say. "So, we've got forever. What do we do with it?"

"Forget everything I was saying," Carl replies. "For once, let's just be teens. No more wars, no more walkers, no more Saviors, no more Negan. Can't we be… Jesus, how old are we? How long have we been living this hell?"

"Sixteen?" I guess. "Seventeen? Well, I turned fifteen right near the start, and it's been two years, I think."

"So let's be seventeen. We don't have to make a difference, not anymore. We've already done enough, and our time is up. So, until the end, let's be seventeen."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

Of course Negan puts Eugene in charge of figuring out how to get us out of the Sanctuary. And of course Eugene had to figure out a way. I aim my gun at him, telling him, "Don't turn around."

Eugene freezes where he is. I order, "Get up. Back away from that thing." Eugene slowly stands, but he doesn't move away. "Back away from it!"

Eugene raises his hands, his voice shaking as he says, "I'm attempting to save people, Dwight. And killing me is killing a great many innocents. When this bird slips its surly bounds, it's gonna Pied Piper away their cold corpses and free this place."

"And then Negan will kill Clary and Rick and Daryl and Rosita and all your old friends."

"They're former traveling companies," he says. "Nothing more."

"Wow, and I thought I had loyalty issues. To Negan, anyway. I'm working with them. I'm working with them to keep them and the people here alive. We _can_ get rid of Negan. _Just_ Negan. He's the only one who has to die. And we're almost there."

Eugene shakes his head. "Negan ain't the dying type, Dwight."

I press the barrel of my gun against the back of his skull, growling, "Oh, but you are, Eugene."

"I am," he says, choking back a sob at his fear of death. "That's exactly why I've not yet stepped back, as it were. By my reckoning, I have two selects on facing my fate. One, I abort launch on this glider, don't free this place from the stranglehold of cold teeth and cold tongues, and Negan will likely execute me as what he considers to be a personal favor. Or…. Or I could go for what's behind door number two, take my chances being shot in the back by a sometime-ally, despite any injury I may have caused in the past by delivering a chomp-down on your chode."

Eugene bends down, turning on the mp3 player attached to the remote controlled airplane that he MacGyvered himself. He starts the plane, and it takes off from the rooftop. I aim my gun at him, my hand shaking.

Clary doesn't trust Eugene anymore, that's true. And she's offered me her protection after all this as long as I don't kill any of her people. So it begs the question; does she still consider Eugene one of her own? Would she let me live if I don't let Eugene?

I remember Denise, and all the other innocents I've killed in the service of Negan.

Eugene's not innocent, not by a long shot. But he is a pawn in Negan's game.

I close my eyes for a split second, making my decision. I shift my aim, firing at the plane and shooting it down. I turn before Eugene can turn around, rushing back inside, but not before I hear gunfire from the other side of the courtyard.

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

Tara's voice comes over the walkie, a whisper so she doesn't alert the walkers. "I'm here. I'm ready."

The snipers posted at each look out sign off, waiting for the go. I pull the truck forward, and it idles as I take a deep breath. I look at the cinder block beside me, ready to take the place of my foot on the gas when the truck gets close enough to the Sanctuary. I grab the walkie off the seat next to me, announcing, "Now!"

I throw the walkie down and shift into gear, pulling the truck forward. Gunfire erupts from the upper levels of the Sanctuary, and my team opens fire in response. I speed up as I near it, taking my foot off the gas. I open the door with one hand, dropping the cinder block onto the pedal with the other.

I jump out, rolling to a stop as the truck continues on. It runs over walkers in its path, and I scramble to my feet, running for cover. I make it, ducking behind an overturned car. I watch the truck crash into the doors, opening the Sanctuary for walkers to flood in.

"Daryl, you're clear to the south," Morgan tells me over the walkie, still acting as my eyes in the sky. "You and Tara should head home."

Tara steps forward, raising her gun at the windows as I run for where she's taking cover. As soon as I'm clear, she lowers her gun, following me. "We did it," I tell her as we make our way towards a car so we can head home. "We're ending this, now."

"You seem awfully happy," Tara observes as we get in one of the parked cars, ready for the snipers to escape in should they need it. "I mean, I get being happy. We just essentially forced the Saviors to surrender. But it's something else, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," I say, not offering any further explanation.

We drive in silence for a while, until Tara questions, "What is it? What's your something else?"

"Clary," I answer after a moment. "It's Clary. I promised her we'd make 'em pay for what they did and what they took." I glance over at Tara. "And we did. We made 'em pay."


	9. 8: Our Love Is God

**Chapter 8: Our Love Is God**

 _ **~Rick~**_

I lead the way through the alleys surrounding the Sanctuary, the Scavengers trailing behind me. I find a small group of walkers feeding on a body hanging from a ladder by one building. They turn as they sense me approaching, and my stomach drops as I see the white armband wrapped around the body's bicep.

 _He's one of ours._

I can't tell who it is, even after I've killed the walkers and cut him down. I take the walkie from his belt, ordering, "Snipers, report in." I don't get an answer, and I turn over my shoulder to see Jadis watching me from a distance. "This is Rick Grimes. Does anybody copy?"

I get nothing but static in response.

I take the sniper's rifle, climbing up the water tower in which he was stationed. I swing my legs over the railing when I reach the top, taking the rifle off my back. I lift the scope to my eye, looking to the courtyard of the Sanctuary.

 _Daryl, what did you do?!_

The courtyard is strewn with piles of walker bodies, one of our trucks crashed into one entrance into the building.

I raise the walkie, hands shaking as I order, "North, South, West, report."

I don't get an answer.

I scramble down the ladder, leading the rest of the Scavengers onward, closer to the Sanctuary. We make it to the edge of the courtyard, slowing to stop and looking around. "Different from picture," Jadis remarks, referring to the picture I showed her with the herd surrounding the building.

Gunfire erupts, and we race for cover. I split off from them, ducking behind a jersey wall. "Jadis!" I shout, covering my head. "It's coming from the window! We hit and we fall…" I look up, finding the Scavengers retreating and leaving me here. "...back."

Luckily, a vehicle comes to my rescue. I can see Carol in the driver's seat as she pulls to a stop in front of me, covering me as I leap over the jersey wall to rush to the vehicle. I duck down as the glass in one of the back windows shatters, shouting, "Go!"

Carol quickly backs out of the courtyard, Jerry looking over his shoulder as he inquires, "You good, dude?"

"They got out," I reply. "It hasn't been long. We have to warn everyone. They're gonna hit back."

"We can get the cars near the East lookout and split up," Carol suggests.

"Might have to find other rides," Jerry says. "The snipers probably used theirs to get away."

"I don't think they got away," I say, and that's when it hits me. If Negan got out, he's going to be heading back to Alexandria. He's going to be heading for my home, for where my children are.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I close my eyes as I press my nose into the sweater I took from Eric's closet, finding that it still smells like him. My still wet hair falls onto my shoulders, and I lift my head to look at Carl. I smile softly as I watch Carl brush his wet hair out of his face. I glance down at Judith as she climbs up on the couch and looks at Carl over the back of it, still half asleep from the nap she just woke up from.

"You hungry?" Carl questions when he realizes that I'm looking at him. "I'm cooking. What shall it be?" I open my mouth to suggest spaghetti, but close it, pulling my knees up to my chest. "Clary? You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," I say, nodding. "It's just… I was gonna suggest spaghetti, but that's a Raleigh thing. It's what we used to do. It was the Raleigh family tradition—serious spaghetti."

"How can spaghetti be serious?" Carl questions, coming over to sit with me on the couch. He sits at the opposite end, taking Judith into his lap when she crawls over to him. "It doesn't make sense."

"It's just somethin' Aaron said," I tell him, launching into the story of where Daryl and I went the night of Deanna's party. Carl nods along, smiling softly. "And, basically, serious spaghetti has been our thing ever since. Daryl, me, Aaron, and Eric." I look down. "Guess it's just me now, huh? Eric's gone, and Aaron and Daryl are God knows where."

"They'll be back," Carl assures me. "They will. They got you here."

"I just hope you're right," I murmur. "I miss them. I just hope Dad gets back soon, safe and sound."

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

I look over to the passenger seat when I hear someone speaking, snapping back from my reverie as I realize Enid's sitting there. "Sorry," I say. "I was just…"

"What?" Enid inquires.

"Uh, Eric and I used to take trips like this… back when we were looking for people to bring to Alexandria. We drove to the Hilltop just a few days ago and helped armor those cars. He was always right there, right where you are now. I was just… remembering that."

"I'm sorry," Enid whispers, then glances down. "When we get back, remind me to find Clary. I know what she's going through, but God, it's horrible. The Saviors, calling her the Orphan? That's even worse, being forced to be reminded of it like that."

"I need to make sure he died for a reason." I glance over at Enid. "Tell me what you were saying?"

"I was just thinking about Oceanside," she tells me. "Wondering if they'll talk to us."

"I hope so. We got to try not to scare them. Tara said that, up until her, they killed on sight. It's going to be a risk. And I'm sorry for putting you in danger, but—"

"But I asked to come," Enid points out.

"Still, it's a risk. We need to have them be a part of this. We just have to convince them. We have to."

"We should've brought guns for them," Enid suggests.

"We have to hold on to those guns."

"I could give Cyndie mine."

"You're gonna need your gun, Enid."

"Right. I just want it to end before that."

"I do, too." Enid looks away, out the window. I question, "You know how to drive?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. I'm better than Carl, anyways. But Clary…" Enid chuckles. "Clary's got me beat. She's a badass with a motorcycle."

"And she worries the hell out of me whenever she takes off on that thing," I say. "You want to drive?"

Enid nods, and I stop the car. We switch, and I take over looking at the map as Enid drives, glancing down as she makes a turn I didn't direct her to make. "Why are you turning?" I ask. "We're supposed to be going straight."

"I just want to check something out," Enid answers. "Maybe it's just about giving them something they can use."

I chuckle, catching sight of the sign for the distillery. "You're right," I say. "We can't show up empty handed. Social graces."

Enid chuckles, and I ask, "Have I told you the story about the cannery Daryl and I checked out?"

"Isn't that where you guys met Morgan?" Enid questions.

"Yeah, after we were trapped in a car surrounded by walkers." I glance down at my hands. "Daryl was gonna sacrifice himself so I could escape. He asked me to take care of Clary."

"And you did. You still are." Enid glances over at me. "How'd you get trapped in the car?"

"The cannery was a trap. Tripwires, hidden walkers, the whole nine yards."

Enid swallows. "Well… I hope the distillery isn't like that."

"It won't be," I assure her, but I still find myself hoping the same thing. "It'll be fine. Everything's gonna work out."

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

Michonne looks up from where she kneels next to Judith by the lake, catching sight of me. Judith gives her a goodbye kiss as Michonne starts to get up, walking up to meet me. "Hey," she says as she approaches. "I'm glad you came back. It's better we go out there together."

"It worked," I tell her. "We'll roll in, tell 'em to give up. They're gonna give up."

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I couldn't."

"Don't be," I tell her.

Michonne looks like she's about to say something, but a shout from down the street cuts her off. "Daryl!" Clary shouts.

She runs to meet me, and I open my arms, knowing what's coming. She collides into me, squeezing her arms around my waist and burying her face in my chest. Carl gives me a small smile from down the street as I wrap my arms around Clary. "I thought you were gone," Clary whimpers, and it doesn't take much for me to pick up on the catch in her voice. "I thought you left for good or wouldn't make it back."

"It's gonna take more than that," I tell her. "C'mon, you know that. We're Dixons, remember?"

"Not me," Clary replies. "I'm a Raleigh."

"You got Dixon blood, but you're a Raleigh at heart." I ruffle her hair. "No better combination."

Clary pulls back, looking up at me. "Where the hell'd you even go?"

"It worked," I tell her. "I had a plan, and it worked. The walkers got in. We're makin' 'em pay. They're gonna give up. It'll all be over soon."

Clary glances back at Carl as he approaches, murmuring, "I know."

I take Clary's arm before Carl can reach us, pulling her off to the side. "Sorry, kid," I tell Carl. "Emergency sibling thing."

"I'll see you later, babe," Clary calls after Carl as I lead her down the street. "Daryl, hey! What the hell! Where are we going?"

"We gotta talk," I tell her, pulling her into our garage. I close the garage door, shutting us off from the outside. "This… isn't somethin' the others can hear."

"Darry, tell me what's goin' on right now," Clary demands, taking my wrists with fear in her eyes. "Oh, god, tell me you ain't dyin'."

"No," I answer with a shake of my head. "It's about Rick."

* * *

 _ **~Enid~**_

Aaron reaches into the backseat, tapping me awake. I wake with a start, grabbing my gun. I lean forward, and he holds up a hand, shushing me. He points towards the truck from the distillery (which didn't turn out like the cannery, thank goodness), where I can see the someone's shadow as they approach.

I flip the safety off my gun as we quietly open the doors, weapons raised. We start forward, splitting up at the truck. Aaron goes around the front, while I take the back. I hear Aaron grunt, followed by a thump. I rush around the truck as a woman growls, "You shouldn't have come here."

I find her standing above Aaron, a spear raised. I fire, shocked at my own actions as I watch her body drop. I hurry over to Aaron, helping him sit up. He groans as he pushes himself up, a cut above his eye from where she struck him. We're surrounded, one woman ordering, "Drop it, now! Get up, slow."

I drop the gun, and they keep their weapons trained on us as we rise. I recognize Cyndie as she pushes forward through them, asking, "Grandma?" Her voice breaks as she turns over the body of the woman I shot. "Grandma?"

I recognize Natania below us, dead. Aaron and I look at each other, and I know there's no way they'll listen now. In fact, I might have just gotten Aaron and I killed.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"Clary, honey, you okay?" Daryl questions, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You haven't said anything for a while."

"I… I know Rick's gettin' colder and colder," I say, "but…"

"Hey, I don't want you thinkin' about that," Daryl says, pulling me to my feet. "C'mon, we'll go find Carl, okay? He knows what to say, doesn't he?"

I nod, and Daryl opens the garage door. He keeps his hand on my shoulder as we walk, both of us averting our eyes at Eric's name on the memorial wall. I completely freeze when I hear the first bang on the metal gate, recognizing it immediately. Two more knocks follow, then microphone feedback, and I voice I never want to hear.

"You may be wondering why the hell your lookouts didn't sound the alarm," Negan says. "See, we are polite. I mean, I don't know when they're gonna wake up from that kind of shot, but they should wake up. So let's just cut through the cow shit—you lose. It's over. So you're gonna line up in front of your little houses, and you're gonna work up some apologies, and then the person with the lamest one is gonna get killed. Then I kill Rick in front of everybody, and we move on. You have three—count 'em—three minutes to open this gate, or we start bombing the shit out of you!"

"They got out," I whisper.

It sends chills down my spine as Negan starts whistling. _God, I fucking hate that whistle._ As soon as I see Carl arriving with Michonne, I grab his hand, pulling him inside the house. "What the hell is going on?" Carl demands. "How the hell is Negan here?"

"Daryl said the walkers got in," I tell him. "Negan shouldn't've been able to get out."

Carl puts his hat on the table, sighing. "Clary," Carl says, glancing up at me. "You got any ideas?"

I pause for a moment before questioning, "Have you ever heard of _Heathers?_ " Carl nods once. "You remember how it ended?"

"You're thinkin' of blowin' it all to hell," Carl realizes, then smiles softly. "You know, you always did remind me a little of JD. You're CD, and our love is God."

I smirk. "So we do it. We burn 'em down."

"And you'll build the world again."

"We'll finish this war."

Carl grins, nodding. "You and me, babe, we'll win this thing. We can end it all, _tonight._ We get our people safe, trick the Saviors into thinking we're fleeing, and you and I'll stay and end it. _We'll_ bomb the shit out of _them."_

"And they'll die because we say they must," I say. "I like this, Carl, you and me leading this new world. We'll run this place _._ The world will be ours for the making and taking."

"No, _we_ won't," Carl says. "You and I both know this is my last stand. This will be your place to run." Carl leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck before whispering in my ear, "A new sheriff's come to town, after all." He grabs his hat off the table, putting it on my head. "You gotta look the part."

I have to smile at him, no matter how small it is, because I remember all the times he's put that hat on my head. "Hey," I say softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Carl replies.

"I love you, Carl, more than anything. I'd do anything for you. Remember when I said I'd take those bullets for you?" Carl nods. "It's not just bullets."

As I say that, my eyes drift to his abdomen. To his bite.

"You can't mean that," Carl says with a shake of his head. "I mean, c'mon, Clary. Taking a bullet for me is one thing. Signing your death certificate? That's not you."

"But I'd do it for you," I whisper. "In a heartbeat. I'd give up a heart still beating for you."

"Clary, it's the shock talking," Carl tells me. "I know you'd die for any one of us, but not that way. I know we don't have a choice in who or what punches our ticket, or when we die—"

"But I'm choosing now," I say, grasping his hands. "I'm making a choice. It's what I want to do, and I need you to back me on it. Let me sacrifice myself to Negan. You know he's gonna want someone, no matter what we do. You're dying. Let me die, too. I don't want to be a widow before I'm a bride."

Carl shakes his head. "No. No, you got a life left to live. And I know you may not keep promises sometimes, but you _need_ to stay alive for Aaron. Losing you too would kill him." Carl presses his forehead against mine. "Hey, no one, except the Saviors, has to die, you got that? None of us do."

"Then why are you?"

"I wish I had the answer, but I just don't, Dix," Carl murmurs. "We'll be together again, come dawn or danger."

* * *

 _ **~Jesus~**_

I glance over at Maggie as I drive, asking, "You think they'll surrender?"

"They will," she assures me. "Eventually."

"Not now?"

"Would we give up that quick?" Maggie returns.

"No, we wouldn't."

"Damn straight," Neil says from the backseat.

"If they don't surrender today, they will soon. Just need to run out of food, water… choices." I nod, and Maggie suddenly orders, "Slow down."

I do, taking note of the tree laying across the road ahead of us. "What is it?" Dianne questions.

"Tree in the road," Maggie answers. "Wasn't there before."

"Could've fallen on its own," I offer, trying to stay optimistic. "Trees do that."

"It's them." _Shit._ "Something happened."

I stop the car, unable to go any further with the tree blocking our way. The rest of the caravan stops, Maggie ordering into the walkie, "Bertie, turn around. Bertie!"

But Bertie can't turn around. Headlights appear at the top of the hill, and we can do nothing but sit and wait as the Saviors drive up alongside us. The box truck stops in front of us, and the Savior I recognize as Gary forces Jerry out onto the pavement on his knees. The rest of the Saviors get out of their vehicles, aiming their weapons as they surround the rest of the caravan.

The other two Saviors in the box truck carry a wooden coffin with holes drilled into it out, propping it up against the hood of our truck. Finally, the Savior in charge of this group exits the truck. "Hello, hello, hello!" Simon calls as he approaches. "Ah, what a damn nice night."

Maggie tenses beside me, and we both know that someone is going to die before the Saviors let us go tonight. I flick my eyes to the sky, knowing that one of us won't see the sunrise. We're not all making it to morning.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"You need to make it look like we're escaping out back," Carl orders as we load our bags with flash bangs and smoke grenades. "Get to the woods, halfway to the quarry, and cut the lights. Get enough of a lead on 'em, hit 'em, and get away on foot. You know where we'll be. Just have to get the guns, get everyone else here, and we'll meet you there."

"Two minutes, people!" Negan calls. "Dig deep! I want these apologies memorable. Bonus points for creativity. Work up a poem, sing a song. I love that shit."

"Darry, get ready to get going," I order. "I'll signal you when."

"Tobin, your group, go," Carl orders. "There's gonna be people in the infirmary. They're gonna need your help."

"Look, we got guns, we can fight them," Tara says.

"We will, but not now," Rosita says. "Carl's right."

"Carl, we can't just let them have this place," Michonne says.

"We can," Carl returns. "All we need to do is survive tonight. This is my show, you said that. This is our plan, and you're all gonna do it. So let's go!"

Daryl claps Carl's shoulder as we pass each other, Daryl and the girls going one way while Carl and I go in the opposite direction.

"One minute!" Negan shouts.

Carl and I race to the gate, and Negan calls, "Okie dokie! You brought this on yourself, Rick. See, I was willing to work with you. All you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. Now? Well, now I see that you just got to go. Scorched earth, you dick!"

"He's not home," Carl says from where he stands at the watchpost atop the wall. I stay on the ground, waiting to signal Daryl.

I can hears the guns cocking, knowing they're being aimed at Carl. I turn, taking aim through the gate, knowing while I can't see much, I'll hit someone. "Oh, holy shit!" Negan laughs. "Everybody hold your fire! It's Carl! Look at you. Answering the door like a big boy! I am so proud. Daddy's not home, huh? Well, I guess he's gonna get back to a big ole smoky surprise."

"There's families in here," Carl says. His voice is dripping with venom, just daring Negan to try to fuck with us now, when we've got nothing to lose. "Kids. My little sister."

"Well, that shit just breaks my heart." I lower my gun, dropping my bag at the ladder as I make the decision to make my stand with Carl. "There's kids at the Sanctuary. You must've seen 'em. Even had a little baby at one of the outposts. I wonder what happened to her."

"She's safe," I pipe up.

"Ooh!" Negan exclaims. "Is that a Dixon I hear?!"

I'm already on my way up to join Carl, and as soon as I'm up on the watchpost I can see Negan below. He has a microphone in his hand, grinning when he sees me. I correct him, "It's Raleigh. And it still is, even after your people killed my father."

"Right, Little Orphan Annie up there, talkin' big shit about an apple pie life where everything works out," Negan returns. "But guess what? None of this shit is fair, kid. Hell, you both know that. You had to kill your own mom. You've killed thirty-seven people, but that number's higher by now, isn't it? That is fucked up. Ergo, we need someone in charge who's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn't happen. Oh, wait. That's me!"

"Bad shit does happen," Carl says. "But we can figure this out. We can stop this."

"Oh now you want to talk? See, your dad had it that I died, no matter what. He gave my people a choice. Not me. Now we're gonna need a new understanding. Apologies, punish—"

Carl blurts, "Kill me."

Negan freezes, and I look at Carl out of the corner of my eye, whispering, "Carl…"

"I know what I'm doing," he replies.

Negan slowly steps towards the wall, softly questioning, "What did you say?"

"If you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishment, then kill me."

"Carl," I try.

"I'm serious," he tells me, squeezing my hand.

"I can't let you do this," I say, then turn to Negan. "No, not him. You take me."

Carl takes a step forward, and we share a look before he turns to Negan. He says, "Kill both of us."

Negan pauses for a moment before saying, "You want to die?"

"Yes," I answer.

I don't think Negan was expecting that honest of an answer, but he quickly recovers. "Well, Bonnie wants to die. How about you, Clyde?"

Carl answers, "No, I don't. But I will, and if you kill me, Clary will find a way, so you may as well kill her, too. It's gonna happen. And if our deaths can stop this, if it can make things different, for us, for you, for all those other kids, it'd be worth it. I mean, was this the plan? Was it supposed to be this way?"

"It was always gonna be this way," I say. I look towards Carl. "'Cause we're the asteroid that's overdue."

"Kid?" Negan questions, clearly confused.

"The dinosaurs will turn to dust."

"What does that mean?"

I raise my fist, the signal to Daryl to get ready. "They'll die because _I_ say they must!"

I bring my fist down, and Daryl hits the gas. His convoy breaks out of Alexandria, momentarily drawing Negan's attention. A group of Saviors will be after them soon, but the distraction gives Carl and I enough time to quickly climb down from the watchpost. Carl lets go a little over halfway down, dropping and, unbalanced, falling onto his back. I slide down, offering my hand. I pull Carl to his feet, and we both grab our bags.

"This is it," I tell him. "What we do here tonight, it'll end this. No matter if we live or die, this right here, tonight, is the end of it all. This world's gonna be turned upside down."

"Son of a bitch, Carl!" Negan shouts. "Was that just a play?! I thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! Bombs away!"

We start pulling the pins on the smoke grenades, throwing them down. We watch as there's an explosion within Father Gabriel's church, flames billowing out and shattering the windows. We keep moving, hoping that we can distract the Saviors long enough that our people can hide and make it through the night. We keep moving, up until a car explodes right in front of us.

I throw my arms up to cover my face, the blast knocking us to the ground. I groan as I push myself up on my forearms, then let out a hiss of pain. Carl reaches over, taking my hand. "You're hurt."

"Well, they're bombing the shit out of us. One of us is bound to get burned," I return. I can hardly hear myself, my ears ringing from the explosion. The burn on my arm hurts like hell, but we've just gotta keep pushing on.

Carl and I get to our feet, keeping on the move. It's too dangerous to stay in one place for too long. We walk up the steps onto the porch of Tobin's house, trying to catch our breath. We turn, watching Tobin lead a group of Alexandrians down the street. "Go with them," Carl manages, then swallows, his voice stronger as he repeats, "Go, Clary. Go with them."

"No, I'm not leaving you!" I object.

"Baby, you gotta go," Carl tries.

"No! You need me, and I need you! Where you go, I go. I don't give a shit if this is your show, because it's ours now! This is our home, our place, and we are not letting a bunch of self-righteous, asshole, psychopaths take it!"

Carl and I both glance at the house next to us as we hear glass shattering, and Carl barks, "Go! Run!"

We take off, the explosion throwing us as the grenade inside goes off. It's a struggle to even stay awake now, and I wrap my arm around Carl as we push ourselves up. We support each other, making our way through Alexandria.

A grenade goes off at the gate, and the Saviors bust through the gate. I whisper, "It's over, baby. We gotta go. We lost."

"We haven't lost yet," Carl replies. "'Cause we're still breathing."

The Saviors split off, but Carl and I are almost at the entrance to the sewer where everyone else is hiding. One of them spots us, shouting, "On the ground, kid!"

Carl drops a smoke grenade, hiding us from the Saviors' sight. They rush forward, but when the smoke clears, Carl and I watch from below in the sewer as they look around. To the Saviors, we've vanished into thin air.

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

"Stop the car!" Laura exclaims, the road ahead filled with smoke. "Stop the car, D."

"I just wanna take a closer look," I say, continuing on.

"D, stop the damn car! You're leading the trucks right into it! You're gonna get us killed!"

I only stop the car when we're in the smoke, knowing that's where the Alexandrians are hiding in wait. They open fire, and we scramble for cover. I duck down on the ground on the side of my truck, then draw my gun. I push myself up, looking over the hood at the group in the woods. I can see Daryl and Rosita, plus two others. I squeeze my eyes shut, making my choice.

I spin and fire on the Saviors.

 _One, two, three, four, five._

Then, I'm the only one left. Or so I think.

Laura rounds the back of the car, raising her gun on me. I don't know if I have any bullets left in my gun and I don't waste time firing a possibly empty gun. I charge her, but Laura fires, a bullet tearing through my arm. I drop to the ground with a groan, and Laura's got it all figured out now.

"That's why you didn't want to block the gate with the trucks," she says. "That's why you drove right into this! It was you! All of it! You tell them to stop! Stop them!"

"It doesn't work like that," I pant, holding my arm with my other hand.

Glass shatters as the Alexandrians' bullets strike the truck, and Laura ducks and turns to run. I lunge for another gun, trying to aim and fire before Laura disappears, but she's gone by the time I get the gun up. I drop it, curling in on myself in pain.

"It's over!" I shout. The Alexandrians emerge a moment later, and I see that the other two that are with Daryl and Rosita are Tara and Michonne. Tara kicks the gun on the ground away, and Rosita picks it up. "I made sure you guys could get out the back," I tell them. "I drove the convoy right up to the roadblock. I knew what it was. I can't go back. One of 'em got away. She's gonna tell them."

"How'd they get out?" Daryl demands, lowering his gun. "Was it what I did?"

"Eugene," I answer. "I can still help you. I know how they work, how Negan thinks. I want you to win. I want Negan to die. And we can settle up after."

Daryl reaches forward, grabbing his vest and pulling it off of me. Michonne and Tara gather the guns from the fallen Saviors, Michonne saying, "We need to go. Now."

Daryl nods and follows the two, leaving Rosita with me. She sighs before taking my uninjured arm and hauling me to my feet. "C'mon," she says. "We gotta go."

We stand around the entrance to the sewer, listening as the explosions continue within Alexandria. Tara leads the way down into the sewer, followed by Rosita. I look over to Michonne, who stares at Alexandria with horror. "I'm sorry," I tell her.

She doesn't seem to hear me. Daryl ushers me down into the sewer before following. Michonne still remains above, staring at Alexandria. "Michonne!" Rosita hisses. "Michonne!"

Michonne looks down, only sparing a nod.

"Michonne!" Rosita tries once more. Michonne doesn't even look down, instead closing the manhole covering on us.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

No one meets his eyes.

We all know by now. Even Dwight.

No one can look at Rick Grimes.

We all know what he's going to lose, while he has no clue.

I glance towards Rick, but just as he comes closer, I turn back to Dwight and his injured arm. He's lucky—Laura's shot was a through and through. Dwight lets out a hiss of pain as I tighten the bandage around his arm. "Sorry," I mutter.

"I probably deserve it," he replies, giving me a small grin. I know what Dwight's trying to do; take my mind off of Carl, just for a moment, at least. "Hey. I really am sorry I shot you. I didn't realize, and by then, it was too late."

"I know," I softly say.

"And I'm sorry about your parents."

"I still have Aaron. Wherever he is."

"Right, sorry. The Saviors call you the Orphan. I just assumed. But your other dad, I am sorry."

"You're sorry for a lot, D," I reply.

"A lot of this is on me."

I glance over my shoulder at Carl as Rick kneels in front of him. "Not everything," I whisper.

Dwight places his hand on top of the one I still have resting on his arm. "I'm sorry about that, too." Dwight glances down, catching sight of my burn from the explosions. "And I'm sorry about that."

I suck in a shaky breath, squeezing my eyes shut, as I hear Michonne let out a sob. Dwight squeezes my hand, but I pull away from him, dropping to my knees beside Carl. I press my face into the crook of his neck, and I can feel it.

The fever's begun.

 _This really is the end, isn't it?_


	10. 9: We'll Meet Tomorrow

**AN: I'd first like to apologize for this doozy of a chapter. I'd also like to apologize because** **I meant to upload this earlier today but I just got back from Walker Stalker Con NJ. If any of y'all ever go, Cooper Andrews and Ross Marquand are the dudes to meet. If you have been to a WSC, leave a review telling me about it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: We'll Meet Tomorrow**

 _ **~Carl~**_

I didn't want Clary this close. I didn't want her to feel the fever that'll kill me. But she's beside me now, her face in my neck, with my dad and Michonne in front of me.

Dad starts, "I-I don't…"

"Dad," I say.

"How…"

"Dad, it's alright. It's gotta be. I wasn't sure if you'd make it back before… but… just in case, you know?" I reach beside me, taking the stack of letters I had written to everyone. "I wanted to make sure I was able to say goodbye." I quickly flip through them, pulling Clary's out from the pile. I give the rest of the stack to Michonne, pressing Clary's into her hand. I tell her, "Don't read that until after, okay?"

Clary nods quickly, taking the letter and tucking it in her jacket pocket. "No," my dad says, shaking his head. "It's them. It's them. They… they don't… it wasn't…"

Michonne's still crying, still shaking her head in the disbelief that she's going to lose yet another child. "Carl," she whispers.

"No," Dad repeats. "No."

"I got bit," I say. It's the first time I've really said the words out loud. It feels strange on my tongue. I know I was bitten and I know I've only got a limited amount of time left, but it still doesn't feel real. "I was bringing someone back. His name's Siddiq. We saw him at that gas station before. It wasn't the Saviors. It just happened. I got bit."

I let out a soft groan, leaning against Clary for support. "Carl?" she questions. "What's the matter, baby?"

"Everything hurts," I say softly, squeezing my eye shut. I know I'm getting worse, that we're running out of time.

"Rick," Clary says, "we need to lay him down."

Dad nods, not really processing her words. Together, he, Michonne, and Clary get me up, laying me back on the cot I had set up earlier for Siddiq, assuming that he would be living down here until I talked my dad into letting him join the community. Clary sits on the edge of the cot, taking my hand, while Michonne smooths my hair down. "Is that better?" Michonne inquires.

"Yeah, thanks," I say.

"I, um, I got these," Siddiq offers, and I glance around them to see him offering a bag filled with pill bottles. "They're over the counter, non-steroidal, anti-inflammatories. They'll, um, they'll help a little with the fever." Siddiq looks down, stumbling over his words. "Th-they did for my mom and dad." His voice breaks as he tries, "Please, take them. Your son, he should have them."

Clary gets to her feet, starting towards Siddiq. She's unpredictable on a good day, and when she's pissed, there's nothing she won't do. I grab her arm, whispering, "You promised."

"I'm not going to," she replies, looking down at me.

"You're a doctor?" my dad questions as I release Clary's wrist.

Clary takes the pills from Siddiq, and he stares up at her for a long minute before he finally answers my dad. He clears his throat, answering, "I was a resident… before. Yeah."

"You're name's Siddiq?"

"Yes."

My dad turns back to me as Clary returns to my side, questioning, "Did you know he was a doctor? Is that why you brought him back?"

"He wasn't gonna make it alone," I reply. "He needed us. That's why."

"He was the one at the gas station."

An explosion goes off nearly right above us, and Clary lurches forward, covering me with her body as the ceiling cracks. My dad covers her, the debris landing on him. The dust causes me to start coughing, and Michonne rushes, "Water, give him water."

Clary stays above me in case more debris falls, gently holding my head up while Dad presses a bottle to my lips. "Easy," my dad says. "Slowly, slowly."

Dad lowers the bottle as Michonne gets to her feet, and I watch as she marches towards Dwight, ordering, "Make it stop! Make it stop." Michonne grabs the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the sewer walls. "Make them stop."

Dwight bows his head, admitting, "I can't."

"You can," Michonne insists. "You're one of them. They'll listen to you." Michonne's voice breaks as she begs, "Please. Please."

Dwight bows his head, not meeting her eyes. Rosita gets to her feet, resting her hand on Michonne's shoulder as she takes a step back from Dwight. Rosita turns to the Savior, asking, "You said that Hilltop's safe, right?"

"Yeah," Dwight answers with a nod.

"We need to get everybody there." Rosita turns to Michonne. "We can get Carl there."

I know I won't make the trip.

"And they think all of you got away in the woods," Dwight interrupts. "They're out there, looking."

"They saw us go west," Tara chimes in. "So we won't go west."

"Your best chance is to stay here until they're gone."

"No," Daryl argues, keeping Judith pressed against his chest as he stands. "They find us here, we're dead."

"They're almost done. They gotta be. It wasn't about destroying the place. They don't have the ammo for that. After they let up, after they're gone… that's when we go." For a while, no one says anything. Dwight looks around the others to Clary. He pleads, "Please, Clary. You know I'm right."

They all turn to look at Clary. She bites her lip, closing her eyes. I rest my hand on her hip, telling her, "This is your choice. You have a voice, a powerful one. What you say means a lot."

Clary opens her eyes, nodding as she takes in what I said. She looks up at the others, saying, "I trust Dwight. Listen to what he has to say."

"Okay," Rosita says. "We wait."

"You're sure going to Hilltop's the best plan?" Dwight questions.

"You got a better one?"

"All of you, in one place, together—"

"All of us, in one place, together," Daryl interrupts. "We'll be their worst damn nightmare."

* * *

 _ **~Morgan~**_

The Saviors came to the Kingdom.

Carol and Ezekiel got everyone out, but the Saviors took Ezekiel. I peer into the shadows, searching for Henry, who snuck back in, wanting revenge for his brother. I spin upon hearing a sound behind me, raising my staff, but stop when I see Carol. "Hey," she hisses.

"Shit," I mutter, lowering my weapon.

Carol takes a few steps closer, whispering, "They don't have enough people to guard all the walls."

"No, but they do have people," I reply.

"And they have Ezekiel."

"I saw him. They got him on the other side of this place." I glance over my shoulder, checking that there's no Saviors creeping up on us in the night before turning my attention back to Carol. "We can take 'em. One by one."

"No," Carol argues with a shake of her head. "If we hit one of them, that could call them all. It's better just to avoid them until we can't."

"Henry. He's here, too."

"Where?" Carol demands. "Did you see him? Do they have him?"

"Yeah, I saw him run this way and then he was gone. But he'll hide. He won't take them on face-to-face."

"We have to do this now," Carol decides, her plan of action changed now that there's a possibility of Henry being in danger. "So if we have to take them, we take them."

Carol takes off into the shadows of the Hilltop, and I follow. We round a building, watching as two Saviors attempt to extinguish a fire started by Ezekiel before he was captured. Two more Saviors exit another building carrying more fire extinguishers. They put them down by the two battle the blaze before disappearing back inside.

"If we don't go through 'em," I whisper to Carol, "we gotta go through the courtyard. We'll be exposed. This is it."

I look to Carol, and she nods once. We get ready, sneaking up behind the Saviors. I tap one on the shoulder with the end of my bo staff, stabbing him through the chest when he turns. Carol hits the other one over the head with her rifle. I put the sharpened end of my weapon through each of their heads, ensuring that they won't reanimate.

Carol and I hide on either side of the stairs, waiting for the other two Saviors to exit the building once more. "You want me to just do it?" Carol questions.

"No," I reply. We hit them the same way as before, I stab as Carol knocks them unconscious. "No, no." Carol picks up a gun from one of the Saviors. "Got all of 'em. They could've found Henry."

"I know," Carol replies. "I'm not worried about them."

We continue on, starting to enter one building when I hear more Saviors around the corner. "Leave it," Carol hisses.

I ignore her, starting towards them.

"Leave it."

I ignore her, walking down the steps and taking down two of the three Saviors. Carol fires before the third one can, and he drops to the ground, a silenced bullet in his head. We retrieve more guns from the fallen Saviors, Carol deciding, "Let's go find Ezekiel."

"Give up, or he's dead," Gavin threatens from inside the auditorium. They think we're at the back of the auditorium. They quickly realize we aren't when we kick over a backdrop on stage, opening fire on the Saviors, Ezekiel diving for cover.

I move down into the seating area, pushing towards the back of the auditorium until a Savior tackles me from the right. We roll, my gun flying out of my hands. He comes out on top, throwing punches. I get one hand around his neck, pushing back against him, and I notice a large bullet wound in his stomach.

The Savior screams in pain as I plunge my hand into the wound, blood running out of his mouth. I force my hand into his stomach, grabbing ahold of his intestines and ripping them out.

It goes silent, Carol and Ezekiel staring at me in horror.

"Jesus," Gavin says, and I realize he's the only Savior left alive.

He gets to his feet, turning and getting out of the auditorium as fast as he can with after being shot in the leg. I grab my gun, firing at him but missing. I grab my bo staff from the stage, starting up the aisle. "Morgan, we should take out leave," Ezekiel says.

"We don't need to go," I reply. "All of them are dead."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"You left," Carl says, looking up at Michonne as she strokes his hair. "You were supposed to be resting."

"I'm not tired," Michonne tells him.

"Yeah, you look great."

"Gosh, Carl, you never say anything about how I look," I tease, remembering a similar conversation in that house after the fall of the prison.

"Well, that's 'cause you always look great," Carl returns. Michonne chuckles softly, remembering that moment as well. Carl turns serious as he says, "It's gotta stop. It's not supposed to be like this. I know it can be better."

I look up to the sky when I realize I haven't heard any explosions for a while. "Sounds like they're lettin' up," I say.

"Looks like you were right," Rosita tells Dwight. "They're leaving."

"Maybe," Daryl says. Rick stands as my brother approaches, passing Judith over to her father. "Want me to go take a look?"

Rick gives a small nods, and I suddenly stand, blurting, "Daryl."

"Yeah?" he questions, turning back to me.

"Be careful," I request.

Daryl nods. "Anything for you."

My brother leaves, and Carl turns to me as I reclaim my seat next to him. He murmurs, "You should go with them. Get to the Hilltop."

"I can't," I whisper, taking his hand. "I won't leave you."

It isn't long before Daryl returns, and Michonne steps away to meet with him. She returns, reporting, "The Saviors are gone. We can get everyone to Hilltop. We can get Carl there."

"Carl? No," Rick objects.

"Daryl can get one of the cars," Michonne proposes.

"Carl won't make… He can't leave here." I bow my head, squeezing Carl's hand. I remember Jim, how the ride to the CDC alone had nearly killed him. "I have to stay with him."

"Rick."

"He can't. I have to stay."

Michonne nods. "We'll both stay."

"All three of us will," I add.

Rick glances back at me before turning back to his girlfriend. "Will you… will you take Judith?" he requests. "She needs to be there. If she…" Rick cuts himself off, his voice breaking. "If… something happens—"

"I'll take her," Daryl volunteers. "I'll get her there. I'll keep her safe. I got this."

"Let me say goodbye," Carl requests. "Clary."

"On it," I respond, gently helping him sit up. I sit right beside him, ready to support him if the need arises.

Rick kneels with Judith in front of Carl, and I can tell in her big brown eyes that she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand that this is the last time she'll ever see her brother. She doesn't understand why he's not coming with her. She doesn't understand why he's saying goodbye.

"You be good, okay?" Carl tells her. "For Michonne. For Dad. You gotta honor him. Listen when he tells you stuff. You don't have to always. Sometimes, kids gotta show their parents the way."

Carl takes the sheriff's hat off his head, sighing softly as he looks down at it in his hands.

"This was Dad's before it was mine."

He reaches forward, placing the hat on Judith's head. I let out a soft chuckle as it falls off, too big for her. I remember watching Rick place the hat on Carl's head for the first time, watching it fall off because it was just a little too big. Carl gives me a grin, remembering it, too.

"Now it's yours." Carl sniffles. "I don't know… just having it and… It always kept Dad with me. It made me feel as strong as him. It helped me. Maybe it'll help you, too. Before Mom died… she told me that I was gonna beat this world."

 _Oh, God, Lori._

I remain silent, tears now streaming down my cheeks at the memory of Lori Grimes. I promised her I'd look out for her kids, keep them safe. I couldn't even do that.

"I didn't. But you will. I know you will."

There's something about kids, I think. About how they can read emotions. She doesn't understand, but Judith knows that something's wrong. Or maybe it's that she just doesn't want to leave her brother. Maybe that's why she starts crying when Rick pulls her away from Carl to pass her to Daryl. Daryl takes Judith and the hat, gently bouncing her as he murmurs, "I got ya, Lil Ass-Kicker."

Carl smirks, just as he always does at Daryl's nickname for Judith.

Daryl looks away from the youngest Grimes sibling to the oldest, biting his lip before saying, "These people, you saved them all. That's all you, brother. You're a hero, kid. Everything that you've done for my sister, I won't _ever_ forget it. Thank you."

Carl dips his head in a nod of acknowledgement. Tara looks after Daryl as he turns and leaves, pausing to fist bump Carl one last time before turning to follow my brother. "Tara," I say, causing her to look back at me. "I know you want revenge, I get it. But you do _not_ touch Dwight. Do you understand me? You leave him alone."

Tara nods once after a moment of hesitation, pivoting on her heel and following my brother. Siddiq steps forward, kneeling in front of Carl.

"You were helping me honor my mom," he says. "Not just yours."

"Mine, too," Carl tells him.

"You brought me here. You gave me a chance. I know I can never repay you, but I can honor you by showing your people, your friends, your… your family that what you did wasn't for nothing. That it mattered. That it meant something. Because it did."

"You better be worth a hell of a lot," I growl.

"I'll show you that I am. I'm gonna honor you, Carl."

"Congratulations," Carl deadpans, shaking Siddiq's hand. "You're stuck with us."

I glance upward, able to smell the smoke from the Saviors burning down our home. I echo a dead friend as I say, "For however long that'll be."

* * *

I don't stray more than a few feet from Carl's side, spending most of my time sitting on the edge of the cot, holding his hands. I bring Carl's hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. I let our hands drop back to his stomach, and he reaches up, brushing a tear from my cheek. "Don't carry this," he says softly. "Not this death. Not this part."

"I wasn't here," I reply. "I'm so sorry, Carl."

"This isn't on you," he tries.

"I know, but I'm so sorry. Everything that I've done, I'm so sorry, Cowboy."

"You don't need to be. It's okay. We're together. All of us." Carl glances towards Michonne. "I don't want you to carry this, either. I need you to keep going and stay strong. For my dad, for Judith, for yourself." Carl looks upwards, then towards me. "What's that thing you say? Something about night and day?"

"No matter if it's night or day, just look up, and it'll be okay," I tell him. "Jesus told me that. You just wait for the sunrise or the sunset, wait for the day to pass so whatever hardship you face will be over."

Carl whispers, "Is it morning yet? I want to see the sunrise one more time."

I look up, the moon still visible. The light in the sewer disappears as the last of the oil is used up. I turn to Rick, pleading, "We have to move him, Rick. He shouldn't die down here. He shouldn't die in the dark."

Rick doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge that I spoke. A few minutes later, he turns to Michonne, saying, "I need your help."

"With what?" Michonne inquires.

"Getting him out of here," he replies. "Clary's right. We need to move."

Carefully, so as not to cause Carl any more pain, Rick and Michonne get us out of the sewers. They all but carry him as we cross through Alexandria, too many homes on fire for this place to be saved. We make it to the church, and Carl can't go any further.

We lay Carl on the floor, and he closes his eye, swallowing his pain, before opening it again. "Thanks," he says, "for getting me here."

"I'm sorry," Rick says. "I just… I didn't want you out there."

"No, for getting me _here_. For… for making it so I could be who… who I wound up." Carl swallows, sighing softly. "Back at the prison… when we got attacked… there was a kid. He was a little older than Clary and I. He had a gun. He was… he was starting to put it down."

"No, he was drawing on me," I say, remembering that day.

"No, he wasn't. We just said that he was to justify the fact that I shot him. He was… he was giving up, and then I just… I shot him. I think about him. What I did to him and how easy it was to just kill him."

"Carl, no, no," Rick protests. "What happened, what you'd lost… All those things you had to do, you-you-you were just a boy."

"And you saw it. What it did. How _easy_ it got. That's why you changed. Why you brought those people from Woodbury in. You brought them in, and we all lived together. We were enemies. You put away your gun. You did it so I could change, so I could be who I am now. What you did then, how you stopped fighting… it was right. It still is. It can be like that again. _You_ can still be like that again."

"I can't be who I was. It's different now."

"You can't kill all of 'em, Dad," Carl returns. "There's gotta be something after. For you… _and_ for them. It's why you trust Dwight, isn't it, Clary? So there can be something after? I know you can't see it yet. How it could be."

"Tell me," I whisper.

Carl's eye flicks to Rick. "You have a beard. It's bigger and greyer. Michonne's happy. Judith is older, and she's listening to the songs I listened to before." Carl chuckles. "And no matter how hard you try, Clary, you just can't get her to listen to Led Zeppelin."

I let out a small laugh before promising, "I'll try even harder."

Carl smiles softly. "Alexandria's bigger. There's new houses, crops, and people working. Everybody living, helping everybody else live." Carl looks up at me. "And you and I? We're happy. There's a picture in our room of you, in a white dress. Aaron took it, after he managed to stop crying at giving his daughter away." Carl closes his eye for a second, swallowing before continuing. "If you both could be who you were, that's how it could be. It could."

"Carl," Rick says softly. "It was all for you. Right from the start. Back in Atlanta, the farm… everything I did was for you. Then, at the prison, for you and Judith. It still is. It's gonna be. And nothing— _nothing_ —is gonna change that."

"I want this for you, Dad."

"I'm gonna make it real, Carl," Rick swears. "I promise. I'm gonna make it real."

"And Clary?"

"Yeah?" I ask, leaning forward.

"I want you to be there to see it. No, I _need_ you to be there. I need you there to see it for the both of us, for the others that are gone, and for the ones that are still here. And hey, look out for Judith for me?"

"I already am," I tell him. "Your mom made me promise the same thing before she died. She made me promise to protect her kids. I failed you, baby, but I won't fail Judith."

"You didn't fail," Carl tries to tell me.

"Carl, I'm sorry," Rick apologizes. "I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you. A father's job is to protect his son."

"Love," Carl corrects. "It's just to love."

Carl reaches down, mouthing an apology to me as he draws his gun.

"No, no," Rick objects as Michonne says, "Carl, it should be—"

"I know," Carl interrupts. "I know. Somebody you love. When you can't do it yourself. But I still can. I grew up. I have to do this. Me." Carl looks to Michonne. "I love you. You've always been my best friend."

"I love you, too, Carl," Michonne sobs. "And you were mine."

Carl's crying as he looks up at Rick, managing, "I love you, Dad."

Rick can barely get his words out. "I love you, Carl. I love you so much." He leans down, pressing a kiss to Carl's forehead. "I'll make it real. I will. I'll do it for you. I'll make it real for you, Carl."

Carl looks up at me last, telling me, "Cheyenne, I loved you yesterday and I love you still. I love you today and I'll love you tomorrow."

"We won't be together tomorrow," I reply in between sobs.

"So we'll meet tomorrow."

* * *

Rick and Michonne tried to drag me away. I fought so hard they gave up. I'm not leaving Carl for anything. And I'm not leaving him alone as he ends it, just like Michonne couldn't leave Andrea by herself.

"You should've gone," Carl says, pushing himself up.

"I'm not leaving you," I reply. "We've been over this."

"I don't want you to see it."

"My father is a walker," I tell him. "I wasn't there. I have to be here. I can't put down the people that I love. I don't want you to do it, but we're out of time. So I'll stay with you until the very end. I'm not leaving you, Carl Grimes. I'm not leaving you for the world. I'm staying for these last moments, no matter how short they are. So just let this one brief moment make eternal ties."

Carl looks down at the gun in his hands before back up at me. He leans forward, and I meet him for one last kiss. I wrap my arms around him, this final embrace replacing forever. He whispers, "Stand back. And close your eyes."

I take a step back, but I don't close my eyes. I watch Carl take the safety off the gun, and he meets my eyes. He says, "Hey, you're gonna be okay."

"The world's gone to shit," I say, echoing the first words I ever said to him. "Ain't nobody okay."

Carl dips his head, a small grin gracing his lips as he remembers it just as clearly as I do. He lifts his head, telling me, "I love you, Dixon."

"I love you, too, Grimes," I reply. I pause, taking a shaky breath before adding, "Tomorrow."

Carl smiles softly, echoing, "Tomorrow."

The silenced gunshot is louder than anything I've ever heard.


	11. 10: Call of Ktulu

**Chapter 10: Call of Ktulu**

 _ **~Clary~**_

I can't stay in Alexandria another moment.

I can't bring myself to stay at Carl's grave any longer, but I can't leave it, either. I fall to my knees, staring up at the sky. _Why, why, why? I made it to morning, but it's not okay._

Michonne disappears, taking out walkers that had wandered in from where Daryl's convoy broke out of the community. Rick leaves next, taking Carl's gun with him. I fall forward, wailing because he's gone. I reach behind me for my gun, but a hand wraps around my wrist. I look up to see that Michonne's back, her eyes shining with tears. Her lip trembles as she begs, "Please, don't. Please, not you, too."

So I holster my gun, nodding. Michonne reaches forward, wiping my cheeks dry with her thumbs. She helps me to my feet, taking my hand as we walk down the street to find Rick. He kneels beside the body of a Savior, one that Michonne killed, judging from the hole in his back. Rick stands, taking the Savior's walkie with him.

Rick walks past Michonne and I without a word. "We need to go," I say. "We need to go."

"I'll get Rick," Michonne volunteers. "You coming?"

"I gotta get Dad's stuff," I say. "I can't come back here again."

"Be careful," Michonne requests, kissing the top of my head. I nod, and Michonne and I separate. She walks down the street to her house, while I go in the opposite direction to mine. I climb the stairs, stopping on the porch. I turn my head, looking to my right.

I can remember it as if it were just moments ago. Aaron standing on the porch, laughing at the antics of Daryl and I on the street. "Come in," Aaron had said. "Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti."

Aaron had walked inside without waiting for my brother and I to follow. Daryl said it was my call, and I remember telling him, "C'mon. Aaron's one of the good guys."

I take a step to the side as the ghosts of the past bound up the steps, following them inside. As I walk in, standing in the living room, I can almost smell the spaghetti. I can hear myself saying, "This is where we belong."

Back then, I didn't even know how right I was.

 _And now it's all gone._

I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. I start up the stairs to the bedrooms, entering Aaron and Eric's first. I take a duffel bag from the closet, unzipping it and opening it. I pack what I can grab in the duffel bag, getting what I can for Aaron. I make sure to put in some of Eric's stuff, too; a couple of his shirts, pictures, and other things to remember him by. I catch sight of a box sitting on the dresser, a box I had never noticed before. I pick it up, putting the duffle bag down before opening the box.

"Oh, god," I whisper as I see the two rings inside. I close the lid on their wedding bands, securing it to make sure they don't fall out. I carefully tuck it inside the duffle bag before continuing to my room. I put the bag on my bed, as well as my backpack. I pack Eric's binder full of sheet music I grabbed from their room into my bag. I pack some of my stuff, all the while still thinking about the letter I have in my pocket. I zip the duffle bag shut before sitting on the floor, pulling out the letter Carl wrote. The one he didn't want me to read until after he was gone.

 _Clary,_

 _Why did we have to end this way? Why are we always the ones that lose? Why is it always you?_

 _I need you to stay alive, Clary. I need you to. I need you to be there for the after. I know you will be there, helping people, just like you always do._

 _I'm sorry I'm leaving you, baby. I thought I'd be around for a lot longer. Maybe in the beginning, I didn't know how long I'd last. In the beginning, I thought that you would be the last one standing, even after everyone else. I mean, I still think that. I still think you'll be the last one standing._

 _But I truly thought that I would make it a lot longer. I survived two gunshot wounds, after all, one of which was to the face. And here I am, going out in such a boring way. A goddamn walker bite. Of all the things that could've and should've killed me, it's a stupid walker that's the death of me._

 _Clary, baby, I'm so sorry we had that fight. I never should've tried to stop you from going outside the walls, but you do understand where I was coming from, right? I just didn't want to lose you. I shouldn't have tried to force you to stay inside. Aaron told me that you'd come back, that I'd get a chance to make it right. I'm sorry because I think I ended up making it worse._

 _I remember the very first time that I saw you. We were both so young, though you had grown up a lot faster than me. I remember thinking,_ _That's her. That's the girl I want to marry one day._

 _I really did. Hell, even though I'm dying, I still do. I love you so much, Cheyenne. From the moment that I met you—no, the moment that I_ _saw_ _you, I was absolutely, unconditionally, unfathomably, and hopelessly in love with you. I love you more than anything, and I'm so sorry we can't spend the rest of our days together. I'm so sorry that I don't even have a day._

 _I wanted to ask you to marry me, Cheyenne Dixon. No, it's Raleigh, isn't it? You know what? It doesn't matter. I wanted you to be a Grimes. Maybe… maybe if I get a chance to before I die, maybe if I have enough courage to… maybe I'll ask you. Just to be able to ask you. We'll never actually be able to get married, of course, but I still want you to know that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. If only we would've made it past seventeen._

 _I don't know how many times I've said "I love you" both to your face and in this letter, but I'm going to say it one more time._

 _I love you, Cheyenne Clarissa Raleigh. Even if you now have the same initials as Creedence Clearwater Revival._

 _Just kidding. I love you, baby._

 _Carl Shawn Grimes_

 _P.S. There are times I wish you could've had kids. Ours would've been little badasses._

I refold Carl's letter, tucking it inside my jacket pocket and zipping it shut. I close my eyes, resting my forehead on my hands. I don't want to leave Alexandria, not after this place became my home. At the same time, I can't stay here a moment longer because of what I lost within its walls. The walls that were supposed to be safe.

I push myself to my feet, fighting through every part of me that wants to just lay down and die. I grab my backpack, the one that I've had with me since the very beginning. I pause for a moment to make sure everything is still inside—the wallet Glenn got me as a joke when we were scavenging inside a mall after I quoted _Attack on Titan_ and the pictures inside it; the copy of _The Outsiders_ I took from the CDC; clothes that I've taken over the years from my brothers, among other people. I pull one shirt out—the one I took from Benjamin when I first went to the Kingdom. I leave it behind, not wanting to remember the time I wasted away from Carl.

I look down at the desk, two letters written in case their authors died in the fight against the Saviors. "I should've burned it," I say to an empty room. I pick up the letter I wrote to Benjamin when I mistook my feelings for something they weren't. "You were nothing to me but a body with a gun. I'm sorry I fooled you and I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Yeah, I cried when you died, Ben, 'cause you left behind a little brother and it was a _horrible_ way to go; but I never cared that much. Only enough to mourn a fallen soldier."

I tear the letter in two, letting the pieces fall to the ground. "I slept with you because I thought you were the key to an alliance with Ezekiel. You weren't. He didn't get involved until after you died. Maybe… maybe I shoulda just killed you myself, for all that it did."

I walk out of my room, down the stairs, and out the door. As I leave, I stop in the threshold, just like I did when I decided to go after Gabriel instead of leaving. I should've left then, and then we'd all still be alive. I close my eyes, imagining that I'm in that moment once more.

This time, I make the the right decision. To an empty room, I say, "Gabriel's not my family. He never was. He can rot out there. We'll leave and we'll be the ones who live."

* * *

 _ **~Michonne~**_

I stop before I climb the stairs to the porch, staring down the street. Four houses down, I watch as Clary steels herself before going inside Aaron and Eric's house. _It's her house, too,_ I remind myself. _She's their daughter. His daughter now._

I turn away, climbing the stairs. I stop, dropping my bag when I catch sight of the blue paint in the corner. I kneel in front of the handprints of the Grimes children, one larger than the other. One that will remain that size for all of eternity and the other that will keep growing.

I slowly reach forward, placing my hand atop Carl's handprint. I close my eyes, breathing out a shaky sigh. I lift my eyes when I hear walkers growling from down the street. "They never stop," I whisper to myself.

Instead of dealing with them, I grab my bag and hurry inside the house. I find Rick in the kitchen, telling him, "We gotta go."

"Clary?" he questions.

"She's on her way," I tell him. He swings his bag over his shoulder, following me out the door. We load the bags into the back of a van, and as I go to close the door, I catch sight of the gazebo on fire. Rick rests his hand on my arm, saying, "Hey."

I look back at him, saying, "He used to sit on the roof."

"We have to go," Rick says.

I shake my head, instead grabbing the fire extinguisher from the van. I take off running for the gazebo, ignoring the walker stumbling towards it. Rick joins me a moment later, and we get to work putting out the blaze. He calls, "Michonne!"

I turn, hitting a walker in the head with the canister. I go back to the fire, the growling of walkers getting louder and louder as more and more come. "Michonne!" Rick shouts. "Michonne! It's too far gone."

I draw my katana, slicing through walkers in my way as Rick and I run for the van. Clary already has it started and the back doors closed. She leans out the window, shouting, "We gotta go! Now!"

She leans back as Rick and I jump in, Rick behind the wheel. Clary sits in the back, staring out the windows as we leave Alexandria behind. Alexandria, still burning with walkers inside the walls.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

We drive in silence for a long time. I don't know how much time has passed. I sit in the back, holding the spent bullet casing in my hands. Rick suddenly asks, "What do you think he meant?"

I tuck the casing in my pocket, looking up as I question, "What?"

"Did he want us to stop fighting the Saviors?" Rick continues. "Just… surrender to Negan?"

"We could pull over," Michonne suggests, taking the letters out. "We could read what he wrote."

"No," Rick objects. "Not yet. Not me."

"Rick," Michonne says after a moment. "Carl, he… he wrote a letter to Negan."

Rick doesn't respond for a minute, and when he does, he says, "I need to talk to Jadis."

"What?" Michonne questions.

"They have weapons, people. We can't just give that up."

"Why now?" I ask.

"They went with me to the Sanctuary," Rick explains. "The Saviors saw us there. They're gonna be a target, too."

"Why the hell do we owe them anything?" I question. "They've turned on us so many times."

"We still need them," Rick replies. "They're ours, not theirs."

* * *

Michonne leads the way through the shipping container to the entrance to the Heaps. I know that something's wrong within seconds.

"Michonne, stop," I order. "Something happened."

"What?" Michonne questions, pausing to look back at me.

"The door," I say, gesturing up ahead. It's slightly ajar. "They never leave it open, even a little bit."

"Be on your toes," Rick says.

He takes the lead, gun raised as he pushes open the door. We enter, spinning when a tripwire causes an avalanche of junk to come tumbling down. We scatter, dodging the debris, as it blocks the entrance. Rick and I look down as we step in blue, the spilled paint still wet.

"Shit," I say, looking back to the covered doors. "We're not gettin' out that way." I tilt my head, listening for the location of the snarling. "We got walkers incoming. We gotta move."

"Dig!" Michonne orders. We start digging, tossing junk aside as fast as we can. The snarling gets louder, the walkers nearing. I hear Rick say, "Dammit!"

I turn to look over my shoulder. "My god," I say. "The Scavengers. They're all dead."

"Go, go!" Rick barks. We fight our way through the walkers, scrambling up on the heaps to get to higher ground. We stop at the top, turning to look down at the herd below.

"Rick," a voice says, a voice that I recognize as belonging to Jadis.

We turn. She sits atop the same heap as us, barefoot and in a white dressing gown. Michonne questions, "What happened here?"

"The Saviors," she answers.

"Well, how do we get out?"

"You get out how you got it."

"Great," I remark. "Just fucking great."

"These weren't heaps before. It was just trash, laid out as far as the eye could see. I used to come here to find things to paint on. Metal sheets, fabrics. And then after, everything changed. I realized this whole place was a canvas. That we were the paint. We could create something new. We could become something new. We did. This was our world. Apart from everyone else in every way."

"You did this," Rick says. "This is because of _you._ "

Rick picks up a car door, bending back the metal on it so it protrudes out. "What are you doing?" Michonne questions.

"We're gonna run for it," Rick answers. Rick looks around, finding an old oven door for Michonne.

"Let me come with you," Jadis requests, picking up a chair. "Just until they're gone."

Rick takes another old chair, passing it to me as he says, "No. I'm done with her games. She can't help us anyway. C'mon."

I start to follow Rick and Michonne, pausing as I look back at Jadis. She may have betrayed us, but there's still some fucked up part of me that's trying to tell me to save her. Maybe that's just my humanity. "Good luck, Haircut," I tell her. "You'll need it."

I follow Rick and Michonne down the heap, looking at the hunk of metal serving as a shield. I sigh, saying, "You know, I had a shield once."

"You made me shoot at you while you held it to test if it was bulletproof," Rick recalls.

"I miss that heavy bitch sometimes. Like now. Negan probably melted it down and used it on those walkers we saw, with the metal over their heads."

"Let's go," Rick says, jumping down into the walkers. We push through them, Rick using the metal protruding from the door to stab walkers. We make it to the exit, tossing aside the shields and climbing up the debris. Rick tosses enough debris aside for us to fit through the door. He takes my arm, pulling me up and pushing me through. Michonne follows a moment later.

From the other side, I can hear Jadis call, "Please! Just let me get out!"

"Rick!" I call, unable to see anything except him in the doorway.

After a gunshot, Rick joins us on the other side. He looks down at me, saying, "You were right. They don't even deserve our mercy."

* * *

 _ **~Enid~**_

"We came here to ask for your help," Aaron tries as the Oceanside women lead us into their camp.

"Well, you shouldn't have," Beatrice says, opening the door to Cyndie's house. They shove us inside, chaining us to the radiator. "Hey, please," Aaron pleads. "Please. Please, just… Let's talk about this!"

Beatrice turns to Cyndie, who hasn't stopped glaring at me with hatred in her eyes. "Natania was your family," Beatrice says. "It's up to you, Cyndie. All of it."

"We should just kill them," Rachel interjects. Cyndie turns and walks out, the rest of the women following after a moment, closing the door after them.

"Enid," Aaron says softly, and I can't look at him. "We're gonna get out of this."

"This is…" I blink back tears, my voice breaking as I shake my head. "It's not about that. She made it so I _had_ to do it. It was you or her. She made me kill her." I clear my throat. "I'd do it again. I'd have to. Even knowing it would feel this way."

It isn't long before the doors opens again, and then uncuff us from the radiator. Aaron thanks them, but he lets out a short sigh as they handcuff his hands behind his back. "Take them to the beach," Beatrice orders.

"You're going to kill us?" Aaron questions. I can see the panic in his eyes, and I can't quite figure out the main source of it. Is it because they're going to kill us, or is it because he's truly leaving Clary as the Orphan?

"Take them," Beatrice repeats.

"This is your decision," Aaron says, looking to Cydnie. "You own it."

"Cyndie," I say. "You better have a good reason for killing us other than thinking it'll make you feel better. Because it won't."

"Let's just get it over with," Beatrice says.

"Why would you kill us? To punish us? I mean, don't you get it? Killing is the punishment. You execute us, then maybe some of ours will come looking for us. And maybe you'll take them out, but eventually, enough of them will come back here and they will wipe you out. You kill Aaron, and Clary will rain down _hellfire_ on you and your people. Hell, it doesn't even matter what you do to me, but if Aaron goes back with than just that cut? Oh, you've got one hell of a storm coming. Your grandmother got herself killed, so don't make the same mistake. Just let us go and we'll keep fighting them and you can keep hiding."

Cyndie presses her lips together, swallowing, as she weighs her options. "No," she says, shaking her head. For a moment, I think I've lost. "They live."

They uncuff us, Cyndie leading the way out. Aaron questions, "If we win, do you even want to know?"

"Yes," Cyndie answers sharply.

"Then help us win."

"We're helping you win by not killing you both. That's our contribution to the cause. You've taken everything else we could give."

They lead us into the woods, stopping about halfway back to our vehicles. Aaron and I stand on one side, the Oceanside on the other. "Don't come here again," Cyndie orders.

"Stop trying to kill strangers," I return. Cyndie steps forward, standing toe to toe, right in my face. I don't back down or give her a chance to talk. "We know who we have to kill. We know the difference between friends and enemies. You should, too."

Cyndie glances down before nodding, ordering, "Don't come back."

Aaron and I stand in silence, watching the women of Oceanside leave. He inquires, "You know how to get to the car?"

"Yeah," I say, turning to look at him.

"Good," Aaron says with a nod.

It hits me why he's asking me. "No! Aaron, they're not gonna help us."

"I want to go home. I do. I want to see my daughter more than anything. But I have to get them on our side and end this war so she can be safe. I can't leave. Not until they join the fight."

"They're not joining."

"Beatrice and Kathy were open to fighting before. I think I can convince them. I just need time."

"Okay, then we both stay," I suggest.

"You need to get back. Tell Maggie what's happening, what I'm doing. Tell them to keep fighting. Tell Clary, because she'll find out sooner or later. But don't you _dare_ let her come here after me. They'll kill her if she does. Whatever you do, don't let her come. You got that?" I nod. "There's one other thing I need you to tell Clary."

"What is it?" I question.

"'No matter what, my heart _will_ keep beating.' Tell her that. Please." I nod. "Don't let them come, Enid. You tell them not to come."

"They'll kill you if you go back there," I whisper.

"I won't go back there," Aaron tells me. "It'll be okay. No matter what happens, I'll be okay."

"Promise me I'll see you again," I request. "Promise."

Aaron nods. "Promise me _you'll_ be okay.

I nod, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around Aaron's waist. I rest my head against his chest, and he holds me, cradling my head with one hand. I know he's imagining Clary as he holds me, but I pay it no mind. I'm too busy imagining it's my own father, one last time.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"I shot above her head," Rick says. "I just wanted her gone."

 _You shot above Siddiq's head, too._

"Look, I saw her. She made it. She ran—"

"So you finally did more than hope," I interrupt, meeting Rick's stone-cold, icy blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "Still too late, Rick. She's still back there, with _them._ "

"She ran into an empty alley just before I left," Rick continues. "I didn't want her _dead._ I just wanted her _gone._ "

"Maybe I go back," I mutter. "Maybe I save her, too."

 _Maybe I do the same thing Carl did._

I don't have to say that part for Rick to know what I mean.

"Feels like what Carl was talking about," Michonne says. "What we should do when we have a choice."

Rick stops the van, pulling off the side of the road. He says, "I… I need a second."

"It's fine," Michonne assures him.

Rick puts the van in park, shutting off the engine. He takes the letters and the walkie before getting out, disappearing into the woods just off the road. Rick leaves Michonne and I in the van together.

Michonne starts, "Clary—"

"I didn't mean what I said," I suddenly say. "I… I gotta go after him. I'll be back."

"Be careful," Michonne requests as I exit the van. I track Rick into a clearing, finding him holding the Saviors' walkie. His back is turned to me as he orders, "Get me Negan."

A Savior demands, "Who the hell is asking?"

"It's Rick Grimes."

The radio goes silent, the entire damn clearing silent. I snap my head to the right at the rustling of branches, seemingly the only one to have heard it.

Three days without sleep, and you begin to hallucinate.

But he's standing there, clear as day. Healthy and full of life, instead of dying and pale. He's even got both eyes.

"Carl?" I whisper.

"Listen to Negan, Clary," Carl replies, stepping towards me. "You should know—he's right. He'll tell you what you need to know. I know he's right, and you do, too." Carl stops directly in front of me, resting a hand on my cheek. " _You just have to listen."_

"Ricky," Negan says over the walkie. "Look at you, callin' me up. You wanna tell me where you are so we can do this face-to-face?"

"Carl's dead," Rick tells him. "He wrote letters. He wrote one to you. He asked you to stop. He asked me to stop. He asked us for peace. But it's too late for that. Even if we wanted a deal now, it doesn't matter. 'Cause I'm gonna kill you."

Negan normally has an immediate response for Rick when those words leave his mouth. Instead, there's a long pause. I can only imagine what's going through his mind. Finally, Negan questions, "How did it happen?"

"What?"

"How did he die?" Negan rephrases. "Was it us? Was it the grenades? The fire?"

"It wasn't you," Rick growls. "Carl went out to _help_ someone. And he got bit."

"Goddammit." There's a catch in Negan's voice, something that I _never_ once thought I'd hear. "Shit. I, um… I am sorry. You know, I wanted him to be a part of things. I had plans. He, that kid… that kid was the future."

"The only future is one where you're dead."

"What the hell are you doing, Rick? Why are you fighting? Why are you making this so hard? Carl is dead because of you. Because you couldn't leave shit well enough alone. I mean, hell, maybe he woulda died some other way. Any one of us can get our ticket punched at second, but in this case? In this case, he is dead because of _you._ Because you weren't there to stop him from doing something stupid. You set this course, Rick. Who's next?"

"You are."

"No. But someone is. You see, I stop people from dying. I am the answer. Now, it may have taken a hard lesson for you to hear it; but you should hear it now. It's time. Do not let any more of your shit decisions cost you to lose anyone else you love. That garbage, that sticks with you. Forever. Just like Carl will. Hell, I'm feeling it. And I'm gonna be feeling it for a while. You could have just let me save all of you."

 _Why didn't we? It wasn't perfect under Negan, but at least we weren't losing any more people we loved._

"I mean, that's why I killed your friends in the first place."

 _Did I even want to fight? I had everything to lose, and then I did lose it._

"So you can sit there, and you can say you're gonna kill me, but you _won't._ You failed."

 _You failed everyone, Rick Grimes._

"You failed as a leader, and most of all, Rick, you failed as a father. Just give up. Give up, because you have already lost."

I close my eyes, crouching and putting my head in my hands as I process Negan's words. Then, it hits me.

Everything that Negan's saying is true. He's not lying, not twisting his words or spinning the truth. He's laying it out, plain to see, all cards on the table.

It makes me wonder. Which one of these two has lied to me before, and which one has only spoken the truth? Negan has _never_ lied to me, not once. Rick, on the other hand, has turned his back on me more than once.

Maybe Negan's right. Maybe Rick really is the reason Carl's dead. Maybe Rick's the reason so many of our friends are dead. Maybe he's the reason I've lost my family; Merle, Glenn, Eric. Merle, who died doing Rick's dirty work. Glenn, who died at the hands of Negan because Rick told me to make the deal, to do what it takes. Eric, who died because Rick couldn't leave shit well enough alone.

 _It's not a 'maybe,'_ I think. Negan's right. He has been all along. Carl, who's spent the most time with Negan out of any of us, knows that he's right. I know this because Carl knows this. The evil son of a bitch, the leader of people that have tried to kill us and succeeded far too many times, is actually the only one that I can trust to tell the truth, even if he is Cthulhu. Even if he is the Devil. Tell me I'm nuts, but I find myself being drawn to Negan rather than Rick. He speaks the truth, and I can't resist his call.


	12. 11: Six and a Quarter Turns

**Chapter 11: Six and a Quarter Turns**

 _ **~Daryl~**_

No one says a word as the gates swing open. We all know who it is, and we all know who won't be with them.

Rick and Michonne are hand in hand as they walk inside, both of their eyes still red from crying as they take off towards Judith. Clary trails through the gate behind them, not meeting anyone's eyes. She's expressionless, but I know that facade is holding back a hurricane of emotion. Clary lifts her eyes, catching sight of Enid in the crowd first.

"Enid?" Clary begins. My god, she sounds so broken, so young. "Where's my dad?"

Enid doesn't immediately answer, and I see the fear wash over Clary like a damn tsunami in those five seconds of silence. She repeats, "Enid, where's my dad? You left with him! Where is he?!" She's desperate for her father, nearly hysterical. "Where the _hell is my father?!"_

"We went to them," Enid answers, tears forming in her eyes. "He thought he could get Oceanside to join us. They attacked us in the middle of the night, the Oceanside. Natania had Aaron on the ground, spear over his heart, and I shot her through the back. I saved Aaron, but I killed their leader."

Clary steps towards Enid, still processing her words. "You… you…"

"I _know_ I messed up," Enid says. "She was their leader."

In one stride, Clary crosses the rest of the space between the two girls and wraps Enid in a tight hug. She's nearly sobbing as she manages, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"It was Aaron," Enid replies, hugging her back. "He's one of us."

"But he's _so much_ more to me. I can't lose him, too. I can't thank you enough."

"We're all one group. It's what we do."

"You don't understand," Clary tells her, pulling back to look at her. "Aaron's one of the few I have left. You saved him. I owe you." Clary glances down before back at Enid. "He's still there?"

Enid nods. "He wanted me to tell you that no matter what, his heart will keep beating. I guess you'd know what that means."

"I do," Clary confirms, her voice nearly breaking at that. "But I don't know why he'd risk himself like that."

"He thinks he can get 'em to agree," Enid informs her.

"They were never going to," Clary realizes. "I have to go. I have to go after him. I have to bring him back before they kill him, too."

"Clary, you can't!" I exclaim, reaching towards her as I take a step forward. "It's too dangerous out there, especially now that the Saviors got out. We need everyone here, all in one place."

Clary glances around before asking, "Where's Dwight?"

"Dwight ran," Tara says. "He got away."

"How the hell did he get away?!" Clary demands.

"I had my gun on him, but he ran anyway."

"He was our only hope!"

"Tara shot at him," I correct. "She shot at him, tried to kill him. And he ran to lead the Saviors _away_ from the rest of us."

Clary spins on her heel, starting towards Tara. "You tried to kill him?!"

Jesus grabs her arm to pull her away from Tara. Clary spins, fist raised to punch him, before she sees who's grasping her wrist. She wretches her arm free, turning back to Tara. "You were with the _Governor_ , Tara," Clary growls. "He killed _my_ people, my _brother!_ He killed _Jesse!_ Jesse, who wasn't even _a part of it._ You _wanted_ to go to war _against_ us! When I saw you in that train car, I wanted to kill you for what you did. But Glenn stuck up for you! He spoke on your behalf and I trusted him and his judgment. I let you live! I said to leave Dwight alone! I told you not to touch him! You _will_ respect what I say! You _will_ follow my orders! Or I will kill you."

Everyone freezes where they are, staring at Clary in shock because they all know how dangerous Dixons can be, Clary especially. When you combine that with every emotion she's feeling because of Carl and Eric's deaths, Aaron MIA, the fact that Dwight's not with us, and the whole war with Negan in the first place, she's completely unpredictable.

Clary told me about what went down when she met with Negan the first time. He told her that she was one bad day away from being him. I fear that Clary's fallen so far down his rabbit hole that she may already be Negan.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

I sit at Glenn's grave, staring at the bullet I left. I had originally wanted to end my life that night with his bullet, but Jesus stopped me before I could. I find myself considering it now. I consider taking that bullet, putting it in the chamber of my gun, and putting the gun to my temple. But I can't bring myself to use Glenn's bullet. I pull the empty bullet casing out of my pocket.

 _Maybe if we get Eugene back, I could get him to make me a bullet with this casing,_ I think. _It'd be fitting, I suppose. That I use the casing of the bullet that Carl used to end his life to make a bullet to end mine. Romeo and Juliet wouldn't have shit on us._

I turn the empty bullet casing over in my fingers, staring down at it. I bring it to my lips, kissing it before putting it back in my pocket. I hug my knees to my chest, staring at the bullet I placed on Glenn's grave. I don't turn away from the grave as Maggie approaches, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She stops right beside me, silent. I greet her by saying, "Looks like we're both widows now."

"What do you mean by that?" Maggie questions.

"Sit," I say, and Maggie sits on the ground beside me. I take out Carl's letter, passing it over to her.

Maggie takes it, looking down at it before looking at me. "Is this…"

"Yeah," I whisper. "Read it."

Maggie opens the letter, reading it silently. She refolds the letter, and when she hands it back to me, I see her eyes are shining. Maggie wraps her arm around my shoulders, rubbing my arm. I turn into her, burying my face in her shoulder. "I loved him," I whimper. "I loved him. I loved them all."

"I know," Maggie murmurs into my hair. "This world keeps taking and taking and _taking."_

* * *

Rick doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at me as he kneels beside Glenn's grave.

The dirt crunches underneath boots as someone else arrives, and I glance over my shoulder to see that it's my brother. "You know," Daryl says, "I look around and I think about the people that are gone and the people that are still here. And it ain't right."

The people we lost. Glenn and Carl and Eric and Abraham. They should all be here right now, but they're not. They're dead because of Rick. I whisper, "Please. Please, don't do this now."

"I'm sorry," Daryl says, wrapping his arms around me as he kneels behind me. "It ain't fair."

"Please don't touch me," I whisper. I know it's hurting Daryl, all that we've lost. And I know how it hurts him to see me hurting, how it's even worse because there isn't anything he can do. How it's even worse because I won't even let him near me.

Daryl releases me, straightening. He looks down at Rick, telling him, "Look, about what I did at Sanctuary, trying to end it real quick… I just wanted it done. I didn't want to give them another chance, not again. And I didn't care who was there. I don't know if that makes it right or—"

"It does," Rick interrupts. He stands, turning to face Daryl. "I didn't want to risk killing innocent people. I should've just been worrying about _our_ people. Hell with anyone else."

"We'll keep fighting," Daryl decides, "until you're ready."

"I'm ready," Rick tells him. "Maggie's got lookouts out there."

Daryl nods along. "Every half-mile, waiting to signal each other, I know."

"Yeah. I'm going, too. To make sure we're all ready."

"I'll go with you," Daryl volunteers.

"We should split up. We're covering as much ground as we can." Daryl nods. "I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm gonna be okay." Rick starts to walk off, but pauses. "Daryl. Thank you for gettin' 'em here."

Daryl nods, and Rick leaves to go join the lookouts. Daryl offers me his hand. "You coming, Clars? You been here for hours."

"Yeah, I'm coming," I reply, getting to my feet. "I… I think he's right, you know. About how they don't matter. Darry, you were right about the Sanctuary. You were right about ending it quick. We lost that chance, but we can still end them. We hit 'em hard, and show _no_ mercy. If they ain't on this side of the fight, they're wrong. And they die."

* * *

 _ **~Michonne~**_

Maggie, Clary, Enid, and I gather around the hatchback as Rosita returns. Enid opens the back door, revealing three crates. Rosita gets out of the driver's seat with a note, reporting, "I don't know what the hell it is."

Maggie takes the note, reading, "'If you fill the crates with food or phonograph records, I will gladly exchange them for a key to your future.'"

"It lists coordinates for our meeting spot," Rosita tells us.

"This isn't the Saviors," I say. "They'd blow through the gates, make a big show. This isn't that."

"I don't know, 'chonne," Clary argues. "It's definitely not Negan, but it might be Simon or one of the other guys."

"Either way, I wouldn't put nothing past 'em," Maggie says.

"Well, if it is a trap, it's kind of obvious," Rosita says.

"Which is what could make it a trap."

"What if," I propose, "it's someone who actually wants to help?"

"If someone is trying to help us and we miss out, we miss out. If somebody's trying to kill us, we die."

"Not if we're careful," I counter.

"You're chasing a roadrunner, Michonne," Clary says.

"Being careful is staying here," Enid chimes in.

No one says anything, unsure of how to proceed with us divided like this. With a shrug, Clary—Clary, where the traits brave, reckless, loyal, and stupid are all rolled up into one pop culture quoting depressed hot mess of a teenager— says, "I'll go."

"No," I immediately object.

"I'm going," Clary repeats.

"Not alone, you're not. I'm going, too. We'll see what's up."

"You go, I go," Rosita says.

Enid shakes her head. "Rick wants us here."

"I know," I say. "But the last time we took a chance like this, it changed _everything_."

"'From a friend,'" Clary says, echoing the words Aaron had written on a note and left with water for us.

"Rick didn't agree with me then. He may not understand me now."

"He won't," Maggie says.

"But eventually, he will. He will."

"Jesus and the others have been scavenging, and we're still starving. Maybe this person does have something that can help."

"Then I'm coming with you," Enid decides.

"Okay," Maggie says with a nod. "I'll grab records in case this is real. Enid, Clary, you two grab extra clips in case it isn't."

"Look, this bitch ain't Aaron," Clary says. "They can't be that friendly if they're demanding a damn tribute. I can't let the rest of you risk yourselves. Especially not you, Maggie. So I'll go and be your damn quality assurance myself."

"You're not going out there alone. End of story," Maggie says. "You go, we all go."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

The coordinates on the back of the note lead us to a crossroads. A van is already there, two women standing outside of it. "Okay," Michonne says.

Rosita's in the woods, ready to provide back up. The rest of us climb out, drawing our weapons as we walk forward. One of the women slides open the side door, allowing an older blonde woman with glasses to climb out. "My name is Georgie," she introduces herself. "And these are my friends the twins, Hilda and Midge. And you are?"

"The Orphan," I say, then gesture to Maggie. "This is the Widow." I nod at Michonne. "The Last Samurai." I point towards Enid. "And that's Tortuga."

"I eat one turtle, and you don't let it go," Enid says. "I had to eat _something_ , Clary."

"Oh, way to go, Enid _._ Tell her my name." Enid and I look at each other, and I pause for a moment, realizing what I said. "Oh, fuck."

"You're suspicious," Georgie notes. "But curious enough to see what I have to offer for food and music. I do hope the records are music. I don't accept spoken word. If you're out here, you know you can take care of yourselves, and I like that. I don't care to share this with the weak."

"Good," Maggie says.

I whistle, calling, "Annie Oakley!"

Rosita emerges from the woods, aiming her gun towards Hilda. Georgie looks over at the movement, then turns back to find that the rest of us have raised our weapons. Maggie says, "Enid, Clary."

"You got it, Boss Lady," I say. Enid and I start forward, Enid going to Midge while I go to Georgie. The girls frisk the twins, and I go to search Georgie. She holds up her hand, saying, "None for me."

"Good for you, Ellen," I say and frisk her anyway. I return to Maggie's side, telling her, "We're all good, Mags."

"Give us what you have," Maggie orders.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Georgie argues. "I come bearing knowledge to trade. Essential knowledge for the future, primarily in my head, and uh, I prefer to keep _that_ where it is."

"You're trading knowledge," Michonne says.

"That's what I have. I've made the same offer before—fill the crates, get the knowledge. Simple as that. It's not a trick, just a fair trade. I promise you."

Hilda chimes in, "It's an act of benevolence."

"Yeah, I knew a guy that said he had information," I say. "He works with the Saviors now. Probably makin' bullets for 'em as we speak. Your knowledge does me as much good as the goddamn clown you float with, Georgie." I lean towards Maggie, whispering, "She doesn't have shit, and what they do have, supplies-wise, they ain't gonna trade. I say we pop 'em and take it, be done with it."

"No," Maggie argues before turning to Georgie. "Why would you do that?"

"What else should I do?" Georgie prompts.

"Rosita," Maggie orders. "Clary, give her a hand."

I take off to help Rosita search the van, and Georgie argues, "What's in there isn't part of the deal."

"There is no deal," Maggie tells her.

"How many communities have you found?" Rosita questions.

"Communities like yours," Georgie clarifies. "Not many at all. And not one for a very long time. What you have is special. It's unusual. The dead have brought out our best and worst, and the worst has been outpacing the best lately; but that won't last forever."

"It won't," Midge agrees.

"If, perhaps, people can believe in people again, four crates of goods is worth far less than than a sustainable future and perhaps an exercise in trust."

"You're full of shit," I snap. "And you don't have jack. We don't know you. We don't _trust_ strangers."

"I know trust probably sounds like a made-up word now, like flibberschticky."

"Like klompf," Hilda says.

"Or moisture," Midge says.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I sigh. "I really hope what knowledge you might have doesn't come from her."

"Stop," Enid says. "This isn't real. No way anyone survives going around doing what you say you're doing."

"But we do," Georgie points out. "And we will, because I can divine that you are a fine group… manners notwithstanding."

Michonne steps closer to Maggie, and Maggie pulls me over to the huddle. "We can make a deal," Michonne whispers.

"No," Maggie says with a shake of her head. "These people and their van are coming with us back to Hilltop."

* * *

I lean back against Maggie's desk, Jerry standing in front of me. "What's going on?" I question.

"The handoff horn started, but no confirmation hits," he updates me. "Saviors could've slowed their roll. Let 'em. We'll slow 'em down more.'

"That's good," I say. "It's gettin' dark real soon. Get people ready. You know what to do."

Jerry turns to leave, and we spot Maggie as she enters. Maggie says, "I heard it all. Go get 'em ready."

Jerry exits with a nod, and Maggie steps towards me. "You're gettin' this leader stuff down," she tells me.

"Well, I got a good mentor named Maggie," I tell her. "Soon as the war's over, I'm done, of course."

"Aw, that's a shame. I was gonna ask you to help me run things here."

"Oh, well… in that case, maybe I'll stick around for you." I glance down to her belly, which is just starting to show. "And maybe for a little one."

"Well, he's gonna need his Aunt Clary."

"He?" I question, raising an eyebrow.

"I can feel it," Maggie says with a soft smile.

Michonne walks in, announcing her presence as she says, "We should make the deal and let them go before the Saviors get here."

"I can't let her go," Maggie says, turning to face Michonne. "Not with what they have. I got too many mouths to feed."

"Maggie's right," I say. "They have crates of food in that van. People here, we could be starving soon."

"Maggie's right," Enid chimes in as she enters. "We take their stuff. Otherwise, someone else will. Someone else will kill them. It's a miracle they're still alive anyways." Enid steps closer to Michonne, lowering her voice. "The Saviors are on their way. We're gonna fight, and some of us will die, so why should we give a shit about people who don't give a shit about themselves? I mean, out there living like that? We take their stuff, and we use it. We stop pretending that things just work out. They don't."

"E's right," I agree. "We need their shit."

"Carl rescued Siddiq," Michonne says. "Now, we have a doctor and we have a friend."

" _You_ have a friend," I return. "I have a bullet casing, the previous content of which I watched the boy I love put into his own head because of _him."_

I leave Maggie's office, letting the door to Barrington swing shut behind me. Enid follows me out a moment later, tears in her eyes. "She brought up Carl," Enid says. "And then took my gun."

I light a cigarette, inhaling before I say, "Yeah, she's known for that." I glance down. "Enid, I didn't mean to tell you what happened like that. I'm sorry. I know you… you felt something for him."

"I know he didn't return it," Enid says. "I tried to fool myself that he did, and when you told me to go after him, I wanted to. But I knew I didn't mean to him what you did. I don't blame you for that, Clary. You two, you were there for _everything_ , ever since the beginning. He loved you, and I can see why. I was his friend and never anything more. And I'm okay with that, 'cause Carl was a great friend." Enid glances down. "Carl, he wrote me a letter, too. Said he was sorry for 'toying with my feelings.' That's how he phrased it, but there was nothing to apologize for."

"He said he wanted to marry me," I say, my throat starting to close up talking about it. I close my eyes, taking another puff to steady myself. "If we made it past seventeen, he wanted to marry me. He talked about a future, something for after." I glance over at Enid. "I took it, Deanna's camera. 'Cause it still had that video of him on it, when we first got to Alexandria. Has one of Glenn, too. Abraham, Sasha, Noah." I take my cigarette out of my mouth, offering it to Enid. "Want a smoke? I gotta get rid of it 'fore Jesus catches me."

Enid takes it, trying it before coughing and handing it back to me. "God, that's awful."

I chuckle. "Ron had the same reaction when he tried it." I shake my head. "Look at us. Two orphans that lost our boyfriends to the dead. Aren't we just a pair?"

* * *

Enid went with Michonne to take watch, leaving Maggie and I to deal with Georgie. Maggie carries out a crate of records, putting it on the ground in front of Georgie. "No spoken word?" the stranger questions.

"We're agreeing to your deal," Maggie says. "We'll fill your four crates, then you can go."

"You're gonna want that to be sooner rather than later," I tell her.

"I accept," Georgie says. "But I'm changing the terms. This one, no more. In addition, you can have a sizable portion of my food stores. From the looks of things around here, you need it far more than we do."

"You're giving us food?" Maggie questions as the twins get up to retrieve it. Georgie nods.

This is too good to be true, if there's one thing that I've learned. I question, "In exchange for what?"

"For records," Georgie says, "and good faith. To be clear, this isn't a gift. It's a barter. I'll be back. Maybe not for a while, but I will. And by then, I expect great things." Georgie goes to the van, pulling out a book. "Here is the aforementioned key to a future. Inside, there are handwritten plans for windmills, watermills, silos, hand-drawn schematics, guides to refining grain, creating lumber, aqueducts. A book of medieval human achievement so we may have a future from our past."

Georgie passes the book over to Maggie, and I look at it over her shoulder. It's nearly three inches thick, the handwritten title reading _The Key to the Future._ I look up at Georgie, questioning, "I thought you said it was in your head?"

"The originals are in my head," Georgie says. "I made photocopies. Still, it's been an evolving document since the copy shop."

Maggie looks up from _The Key_ , telling her, "Thank you."

"Build this place up," Georgie says. "I want those other crates filled when I get back. Cheeses for Hilda, pickles for Midge."

"We'll see what we can do," Maggie promises.

"You will," Georgie says.

The twins unload the food for us, loading up the crate of records. They climb in, starting the van. Maggie and I stand on the porch, watching them leave. "I was wrong," I admit. "I'll admit that. I was wrong about her."

"We've got food," Maggie says. "And we got a plan for the future."

"If we make it past tonight."

"I have a job for you," Maggie tells me as we walk inside. She presses the book into my hands. "I want you to read this. I want you to pick something and help build it after the war's over. Got it?"

"Got it," I affirm. Maggie leaves me to _The Key_ , and I take a seat on the couch. I open it, flipping through the pages.

"You can still build it, you know." I lift my eyes from the page at Carl's voice, turning my head to find him beside me, leaning down to read _The Key_ over my shoulder. He tears his eyes off the page, looking at me. "The world we dreamed of."

I whisper, "It won't be the same without you."

"No, it won't," Carl agrees, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I won't get to see it, I know."

"Then what's the point of it? All of this, I did it for you. And for you to not be there, for you to not be able to see it, that just ain't right."

"I know," Carl murmurs, moving closer and brushing my hair behind my ear. "The world isn't fair, baby. It never has been, especially not to you. We all have things that we want, things that we don't get, no matter how hard we try."

"I want to see the next world, Carl. I wanted you to be the one to show me." Tears blur my vision as I hang my head. "I wanted you beside me as we built the new world. I want Negan dead. I want to be the one to do it. I want to kill Negan, but I don't want the fight to end, not quite yet. I want to kill every _last Savior_ for everything they took from me."

"I wish I could convince you life isn't war."

"I wish I could trade my life for yours, Carl. I wish I was the one that was bitten and you were still here." I close my eyes as I let out a sob, and a pair of arms are wrapped around me, my brother pulling me against his chest. "I want him back!"

"I know," Daryl murmurs into my hair, holding me as I sob. "I miss him, too. But even without the people we lost, we'll make it. I know we will. We have to."

"Why is it _always_ us, Daryl?" I whimper into his shoulder. "Why are we _always_ the ones that take the worst hits? Why are we the ones who lose?"


	13. 12: Broken By the Devil

**Chapter 12: Broken By the Devil**

 _ **~Clary~**_

They were coming. We got the signal just before sundown, launching everyone into a rush for the final preparations. I stand with Maggie on the porch of Barrington, waiting for Jerry to signal us that they're almost here. Maggie holds the walkie in her hand, using the strategy we divised together to lure them to battle inside the Hilltop.

Finally, Jerry turns, waving his arm.

"Here we go," Maggie says, then looks down at me. "I trust you, but are we sure about this?"

"There's no way I'll see heaven," I say, "so let's raise a little hell. Let's piss 'em off, 'cause anger makes 'em stupid, and stupid gets you killed."

"Alright," Maggie says, then presses talk button. "Negan. I want to talk to Negan."

A voice that I know isn't Negan's comes over the walkie. "Well, hello there," he says. "You are speaking to Negan, but my birth certificate says Simon. With whom do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking?"

"Maggie. Maggie Rhee. The Widow."

"Well then, hello again, Widow Rhee, and allow me to offer my condolences for what's happened and what's about to happen. In case it's not already as plain as Hilltop potatoes, yours truly is speaking on behalf of Negan this go round. And I assure you the man himself personally received your care package next day delivery. I noticed it was in the box that I gave you in good faith. Trick's on me."

"Dianne," I say, "bring the Saviors out."

She nods, disappearing inside as Simon continues, "But the bill's come due, and you and your people are gonna have to pay. Quite dearly, I'm afraid."

"Your thirty-eight people are alive and breathing," Maggie says. "Turn around and leave us be, and they stay that way. But if you don't, the Orphan and I have thirty-eight bullets that we will personally fire into all thirty-eight."

Alden's taken aback as Maggie turns, the walkie still in hand. As Maggie holds the walkie up for him, I raise my gun. I press the barrel to Alden's head, right behind his ear. I see him flinch at the cool metal, and I tell him, "Choose your words carefully, pretty boy, and the Orphan won't make it thirty-seven."

Alden swallows before saying, "It's too nice a night to spend it dyin' slow, don't you think, Simon?"

"How's this gonna go?" Maggie inquires, taking the walkie back.

"Well, Maggie Rhee, this is highly regrettable, but the way I see it, the Saviors you're in possession of there are damaged goods. You know, they've got themselves into their own pickle, and this organization prizes those who A, avoid capture, and B, figure out their own shit when said outcome eventuates."

I lower my gun from Alden, and he bows his head. Under his breath, he mutters, "Of course."

"Which, in the end," Simon says, "is my way of saying fuck them."

"Do you really think that cockamamie play would work?" Gregory questions.

"Fuck off, Gregory," I snap. "'Cause it will."

There's a tense moment of silence from both sides, no one daring to even move. I mutter, "C'mon, Darry, where the hell are you?"

As soon as I say that, Daryl makes his move from the other side of the gate. He fires on the Saviors, riding up to the gate and luring them in. Jesus, from his position in the bus, pulls forward as soon as the gate opens for my brother. Daryl makes it through, but Jesus has blocked the Saviors from driving in any farther. He scrambles out to get to cover with the others, and Maggie shouts, "Now!"

Our people spring up from where they were hidden and lying in wait, opening fire on the Saviors. Their archers nock, draw, and release. Arrows soar into the Hilltop. I grab Maggie with one hand, Alden with the other, and pull them down with me. Some of the other Saviors behind us drop, wounded. Alden looks over at me, clearly surprised as he asks, "What was that for?"

"Instinct," I reply.

"Well, thanks."

I give a nod. Maggie orders Dianne, "Take the prisoners to my office. Hold 'em there 'til it's done."

"Let's go, let's go!" Dianne barks, and the Saviors don't argue, rushing inside to take cover. "Get inside!"

Alden, of course, is the one that argues. I'm starting to think he's on the wrong side of this fight. He takes my arm, telling me, "I can help you defend this place. I want to. Please. You think I got a reason to be loyal to these people?"

"Get inside, Alden," I order him. "Stay alive."

Dianne takes Alden, pulling him inside. She calls, "Maggie, Clary, you coming?"

"Where the hell is he?" Maggie questions.

"Go, Maggie!" I bark. "Lookouts, fall back! Front line, give 'em cover!"

While Maggie retreats inside, I split off, pushing forward into the battle. I take cover behind a truck beside Daryl, panting, "You know the one thing they never show in those dystopia movies? How old battles get. And how much they fuckin' suck."

"You shouldn't even be fighting," Daryl says after firing on the Saviors.

"I'll stop after everyone on my list is dead."

Speaking of my list, I spot Simon moving forward in the distance. Dwight isn't far behind him. Daryl realizes first who they're moving towards, shouting, "Tara!"

A Savior suddenly appears in front of us, lunging for Daryl, but I shoot him first. It's Dwight that hits Tara, his arrow protruding out of her shoulder. "Tara!" I shout, then spot Enid close to her. "Enid, go! Get her to safety!"

Daryl and I remain where we are, firing on Dwight and Simon. Daryl doesn't have any regard as to who he hits or aims for, but I make sure to steer clear of Dwight. As Enid helps Tara to safety, Michonne runs over to us. "Maggie gave the signal!" she rushes. "We gotta go! Daryl!"

"Daryl, go," I order, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pushing him after Michonne. They take off for Barrington, while I go around to the trailers, scrambling on top of one.

Maggie has already enacted her plan, throwing flash bangs and smoke grenades down to stop the line of approaching Saviors. The others fire, busting the headlights and enveloping the Hilltop in darkness.

I kneel atop one trailer, a shadow in the night, shrouded in darkness, and listen.

"I can't see shit," Simon says from somewhere nearby. "These people have run before. Arat, take a team around back. I want the place surrounded. Gary, your group goes for the trailers. Slow and quiet, capiche?"

"Yeah," Gary confirms.

"Thank you, Simon," I whisper. He's sending Gary right into my line of fire. My eyes have adjusted enough by now that I can make out shapes moving in the darkness. A cluster of Saviors remain by the bus, and I can see a smaller group splitting off to head towards Barrington. Another small ground heads towards the trailers, led by Gary. From the group by the bus, I can hear Dwight question, "The rest of us?"

"The rest of us are making a house call," Simon answers. "Well, if anybody's home, it's time to do some proper slaughtering."

And the son of a bitch starts up that goddamn whistle.

I pick out which Savior is Gary, raising my rifle. I wait, letting him come closer. I wait for the rest of my people to open fire so I don't fire first and give away my location. When the lights around Barrington come on and my people open fire from the windows, I fire, too. Simon yells for them to retreat, and I line up Gary in my sights. Just as I fire, a Savior runs between my bullet and its intended target. Gary freezes as the Savior drops, then looks up and spots me on top of the trailers. He shouts, "Watch the trailers!"

I raise my gun to fire again, but it clicks. Gary takes off the second I lower my gun to reload. By the time I get my gun reloaded, I've missed my shot to kill the man that nearly killed my father.

Even though Gary has run, I still fire on those that remain. I climb down from the trailer, chasing the Saviors out. I reach the gate just as Rick and Maggie arrive, Rick having brought reinforcements when the battle resumed after the silence. Rick and Maggie push on, while I take a different route.

I climb up on the hood of a truck in the gate, scrambling up on the roof. Below me, Rick and Maggie fire at the retreating Saviors while I do the same from up above. We only stop when their tail lights disappear into the night.

"I wanted them dead," Maggie says, lowering her gun. "All of them. Negan most of all."

"Yeah," Rick agrees, nodding. "Me, too."

"Did you see him?"

"He wasn't here. I saw him out there. I broke away and tried to kill him. I didn't, but I tried."

"Thank you," Maggie says, and Rick nods. They retreat back inside Hilltop, while I remain at the gate, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. And then it hits me.

 _I didn't count._

I watched them drop, one by one. I killed with no remorse, no second thoughts or reflections after they drop. It's something that I promised myself I would never do because I didn't want to go to the place that I couldn't come back from. But I did. And I finally broke.

I've abandoned what humanity I had left, humanity I never wanted to lose because if I did, I'd be Negan. All of it, all because of Negan. Sure, he may be right and a lot of shit's on Rick; but he promised me that one day, I would be him. Whether it's him or something else that breaks me, I'd be him. I'd become the devil that stood before me. And I've finally been broken by the devil.

* * *

Glenn always had the most humanity out of any of us. He felt _everything_ we did, even when he didn't have a hand in it. If he were still here, I wouldn't have hesitated to go to him for help. But Glenn's gone, so here I am.

I sit at his grave as if it'll have the answers I need.

I bow my head, whispering, "I gotta try, Glenn. I gotta try to come back. Negan said that one day, I'd be him; and I can't do that. I can't be him. I'm not gonna kill anymore, even though the war's still on. And if I do, I'll count 'em again. But I can't kill anymore. I think it'll kill me if I do. I'm gonna try to do some good. Help people, instead of hurtin' 'em."

Maggie approaches me, resting a hand on my shoulder. She asks, "You doing okay?"

"No," I answer as I get to my feet. "But are any of us?"

"You sure you're up for this?" I nod. "Alright. Come on." We rejoin Kal by the truck, the bed piled with bodies of the Saviors. Dianne arrives, Alden in tow; and Maggie cuts the rope around his wrists. "We'll get you outside the gates so you can bury your people. With a guard, of course." Maggie gestures to me. "She's volunteered to go out."

"The Orphan," Alden says, recognizing me.

"Don't call her that."

"I'm sorry, Miss," Alden apologizes to me. He glances over his shoulder at the Saviors' bodies. "They're not mine, but I'm glad you see 'em that way. As people."

"'We don't burn people,'" I say, echoing Glenn's words. "'We bury 'em.'" I nod towards Kal, who's to be taking us out. "Kal, let's go."

Kal slides behind the wheel, and Alden and I ride on the tailgate as he drives us outside. Alden's silent until Kal slows the truck to a stop, and we get out. "I am sorry for calling you the Orphan, for what you've lost to warrant that name," Alden says. "I never did catch your name."

"I didn't throw it," I reply, handing him a shovel. Alden lets out a short chuckle, taking the shovel. He starts to dig, and I turn to Kal. "I got it from here."

"You need anything, anything happens, give me or Jerry a holler," Kal says. "We'll come running." Kal hands me the keys before walking back inside the gate. I stand watch, keeping my eyes open more for walkers than watching Alden. I know who the real threat is here, who the real enemy is.

I look down at Alden, who wipes the sweat off his brow on the back of his hand before he continues digging. I put my crossbow and gun in the bed, trading them for a shovel. I stick it into the ground beside Alden, starting to dig. He stops what he's doing, looking over at me. "What're you doing?"

"Digging to China," I deadpan.

Alden pauses, sighing. "Alright, fine. _Why_ are you digging?"

"Because you shouldn't have to do it by yourself," I answer, stopping to look at him. "Because I want to start over. I want to help people instead of kill them. I want to be the person Glenn and Carl and Eric saw me as."

"I want to be someone else, too," Alden tells me. "I've wanted to leave the Saviors since I found out what it was they really did. I mean, I could've gone, but they would've hunted me down and-or killed me. So I stayed, and they kept me fed; but I want out of it."

"Dwight did, too. He's our inside man now, still working right beside Negan. But he follows me."

"I'd follow you, too, if I knew your name."

"Cheyenne Raleigh," I tell him, smirking a bit at his persistence. "My friends call me Clary. My enemies call me the Orphan."

"Well, I hope one day you'll let me call you Clary."

"My god, you could charm the skin off a snake, you know that?" Alden grins, going to back to digging. "Alden, hey. Last night, I'm sorry for, you know, putting a gun to your head."

"I was just hoping that it was filled with _ich luge_ bullets."

I can't help but laugh, understanding why he laughed at my retort about knowing my name. "Alright, pretty boy, you're officially okay in my book. This war ends, you'll be under my protection, same as Dwight. Now, let's get digging. I wanna finish this before dark."

"Thank you," Alden says in a whisper, his voice so quiet and soft I hardly hear him. We get back to work, Alden finishing his first grave before me because he had a head start. He opens his mouth, but he can't seem to decide what to call me, rushing through different titles. "Miss Raleigh—ma'am—Cheyenne—"

"Alden," I interrupt, leaning against my shovel, "it's Clary. Christ, dude, I'm younger than you."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, why?"

"I'm twenty-two. I was just curious as to how much younger you are."

"You would've been twenty when this started. Were you in college?"

Alden nods. "Never thought we'd end up here, though."

"You said it," I agree with a bit of a chuckle. "I meant what I said, Alden. You're okay by me. I can see us as friends. Call me Clary."

"Clary," he repeats, and I nod. Alden puts his shovel down, climbing out of the grave he dug. "Clary, if it's not too much to ask… would you give me a hand moving one of their bodies?"

"Of course," I tell him. I put my shovel down, Alden offering me his hand to pull me out of my nearly-finished grave. I hesitate for a moment before taking his hand, and he pulls me up. Alden doesn't release my hand right away, taking in the bandage wrapped around my forearm. "Whoa, what happened there?"

"Negan bombed Alexandria," I tell him. "It's why everyone's here. I stayed, distracting the Saviors so my people could get to safety. A car exploded right in front of me, burnt my arm. I'd bleed for those people, and I have. A burn's nothing."

"I admire your loyalty. You, uh, you probably think I'm not loyal to my own people."

"You said it yourself, Alden," I say as we reach the truck. "They weren't your people."

Alden grabs a dead Savior under his arms, tugging him to the end of the bed. I take the feet, and together, we move the body into the grave that Alden dug. While he begins to cover the Savior with dirt, I go back to my grave.

"'The sweetheart under the anger,'" a voice says from above me, and I look up to see Carl standing above me. I know that he's not real, I know that his ghost is me losing my mind with grief. But that doesn't matter to me. It's the only way I can still see him. "Helping this Alden guy. I knew that whatever came after, I knew you'd be there, helping people. You already were."

I shake my head slightly, driving my shovel into the earth. Under my breath, I mutter, "I've killed people."

"You've let people live, too," Carl continues, crouching to be closer to my level. "Who people are, it's never mattered to you. You've always been a fair person. Untrusting, of course, but once you know them a little, you give 'em a chance."

"I don't give second chances," I add, dumping the shovelful of dirt onto my ever-growing pile.

"But you do to people that deserve them," Carl counters, and I look up at him at that. "You've always been a good judge of character. You know who deserves a chance and who deserves to die. The people that are loyal to you, the ones that you gave a second chance despite what they did? Those are the people you have behind you, the ones that'll stick with you no matter what. Because you gave them a chance _no one_ else was willing to give them.

Carl nods towards Alden. "He's with you, babe. He's only tried to help, and you're helping him. I'm not just your subconscious telling you to trust him. If I were here right now, living and breathing, I'd be telling you the same thing. He'll follow you. He knows who you are, what you did, and what you can do. And he knows what you'll do for him. He knows you'll fight for him. Alden's not a Savior. He's one of _your men._ "

"Clary?" Alden questions. "You with me?"

I look away from where I had been staring at Carl, asking, "Huh?"

Alden pauses for a moment, studying me. He questions, "Everything okay? You zoned out there for a minute."

"Yeah, yeah," I quickly assure him. I climb out of the grave, putting my shovel down beside it. "Hey, help me with a body quick."

Alden and I take another Savior's body from the truck bed, moving it into the grave I dug. Alden goes back to his, and I pick up my shovel. I bury the Savior, starting on my next grave as Alden does the same. We work in silence, digging the third and forth graves. I go to put my shovel down to climb out, but I pause, still thinking about Carl's words.

"I'm not right," I say after a moment.

"What?" Alden questions.

"I'm not right," I repeat. "I know that. I know I'm not okay, I know I'm losing my shit, losing my mind. I thought I could make it through Eric. I can't."

"Who's Eric?"

"My dad," I answer. "The one I lost. And my other dad, Aaron, left me to go chase down people that'd kill him as soon as look at him. And Carl… I loved him, and this world took him."

"I'm sorry," Alden says.

"I stayed with him, until the end. He killed himself before the fever could. But…" I pause, looking down before up at Alden. "I haven't told anyone this. I know it ain't real, but I still see him."

"Like a ghost?" Alden questions, leaning against his shovel as he gives me his full attention.

"I don't know what he is. But I see him everywhere. I see him and I know that I'm not okay. Not even remotely."

"Hey," Alden says, leaning forward. "You do know that it's okay to not be okay, right? What you've gone through, nobody with even a _shred_ of human decency would expect you to keep fighting the way that you've been fighting."

I don't tell him that Rick does. I don't tell him about how I know that after Eric died, Rick said that he still wanted me to lead the fight. That there'd be time to mourn after, but not until Negan was defeated.

However, my face must reveal everything without me even needing to say a word.

"Oh, my God," Alden says, horrified that I'm expected to keep fighting. "What an asshole!"

"Huh, I like this guy," Carl says, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps towards Alden. "And I know it's not just me that does."

I look away from Alden and Carl, murmuring, "Damn you, Superman."

"You see him now?" Alden guesses, grabbing my attention again.

"Yeah," I admit after a moment.

Alden climbs out of his grave, sitting at the edge of mine. "What does he do?"

"He … he tells me things that I already know and sometimes don't want to admit that I know. 'I know this because Tyler knows this' kinda thing."

Alden pauses before prompting, "Like what? What does he tell you?"

"Like how you're with me," I answer. "How you're not a Savior. How you're one of us."

"Your Carl sounds like he knows what he's talking about," Alden says a moment later with a soft smile. "'Cause I am with you, Clary. I don't know you, but I'd like to. I already know what kind of person you are. You're the kind of person I'd stick with. The kind of person that saves a Savior, even if you say it was just instinct."

* * *

"You know, you didn't have to help," Alden says, sticking his shovel into the earth as we get started on the last grave. "I appreciate it, but you didn't have to."

"Yeah, I did," I argue. "I gotta do somethin' right with my life before I end up destroying myself. I'll start here."

I drive my shovel into the earth, pulling up dirt. We're about a foot down when I hear the snarling. "Uh, Clary?" Alden says. "We've got company."

"I hear 'em," I say. "It's probably just two or three. I'll take care of 'em in a second."

"We don't have a second."

I turn, finding a small herd moving out of the woods. From the looks of it, I count about twenty-five to thirty heads. "Oh, shit," I hiss.

The walkers are moving quickly towards us, fast enough that we don't have time to get out of their way. Even though we'd be running right for them, the truck is our only chance. I bark, "The truck! Get on top!"

"Why not in it?!"

"The windows are broken. We stand a better chance up top."

Alden and I take off, Alden jumping up in the bed while I use my shovel to knock back a few walkers that have arrived. Alden reaches down, and I take his hand as he pulls me up. We climb up on top of the cab, trying to get as high as possible. We stand back to back, pressed against each other, surrounded.

"So…" Alden says, "there's no chance they'll just move on?"

"Oh look, the pretty boy's got a sense of humor. Fuck!"

A walker wraps its bony hand around my ankle, tugging me down. I go down, my ass hitting the cab roof. "No!" Alden cries.

He grabs me under my arms, tugging on me. I try to kick the walker off, reaching up and clutching Alden's biceps. The walker's other hand wraps around my ankle, forming a tight, nearly inescapable grip. Dead, bony fingers brush my other leg. "C'mon, c'mon!" Alden cries, trying to pull me up, but the walker isn't letting go. "Jerry! Help us!"

I start to slip from Alden's grasp, and he holds on tighter. The walker pulls on me, nearly pulling Alden down, too. I glance over my shoulder, seeing walkers nearly grab Alden's ankles as he backs towards the edge, trying to pull me up. I look down at the walkers, the fact that I may die in the next few seconds very real. I look back up at Alden, making my decision. "Let go!" I bark. "Alden, let go!"

"No!" Alden shouts.

I release my hold on Alden, shouting, "Let go or they'll drag you down, too!"

"I can't!" Alden replies.

"Let me die, Alden!"

That's when Jerry reaches us, roaring a battle cry as he swings his axe. He cuts off the walker's arm, kicking it back before killing it, splitting the walker in half. Kal is right behind him, charging into battle. Alden, with my ankle released, pulls me up onto the cab. Alden grabs his shovel, slides down the front of the truck, and jumps into the fray.

I remain on the cab, grabbing my crossbow from the bed. I take on walkers from my place atop the cab, firing on them. Alden uses his shovel as a weapon, swinging it and decapitating a walker before I can fire at it.

When I run out of bolts, I jump down from the truck, drawing my knife. I get up close and personal with walkers, driving my knife into their skull from below their chin. One by one, the walkers fall.

Kal pants as he pulls his spear out of the head of the last walker, remarking, "That was intense."

I hit Alden's arm to get his attention, telling him, "You got a mean swing, Point Break."

"And you got a death wish," Alden returns. "What the hell does that mean? 'Let me die'?"

"I…" I start, then sigh. "I do have a death wish. I have no regard for personal safety, nor do I have any self-control. You're gonna find all that out real quick."

Jerry rests a gloved hand on my shoulder, and I glance back to look at him. Jerry and I have become close friends since Benjamin's death and I marched out of Carol's house on a suicide mission. Jerry always makes sure to keep an eye on me, looking out for me in case of trouble. He says, "Clary, maybe you should get back inside."

"I'm okay, Jerry," I tell him. "I gotta be."

"Dude, that's the biggest crock of shit I've _ever_ heard. And I've heard some bullshit."

"Look, the pretty boy and I still got work to do," I say, picking up my shovel again. "We'll be in when we're done."

Kal and Jerry return inside the Hilltop, leaving Alden and I to finish the last grave. Walker blood causes the dirt to stick to Alden's shovel. We quickly finish burying the Saviors, keeping a closer eye out in case of walkers this time.

We toss our shovels in the bed of the truck, and Alden climbs in the passenger seat as I remain in the back to put the tailgate up. It sticks sometimes, so it takes a try or two to get it to close. I pause after I get the tailgate up, looking at Carl out of the corner of my eyes as his ghost leans against the tailgate. I tell him, "We were almost together again, Carl. Tomorrow was almost here."


	14. 13: Bad Moon Rising

**Chapter 13: Bad Moon Rising**

 _ **~Jesus~**_

I don't open my eyes as a body drops into my bed beside me, knowing that it's Clary as soon as she throws an arm across my chest and presses her face into my shoulder. I only open them when she scoots closer, hair tickling my neck. I turn my head just enough to look down at her, and she lifts her head slightly, questioning, "Did I wake you?"

"I wasn't sleeping," I tell her, wrapping an arm around her and stealing a glance at the clock. "What're you doing up at two in the morning?"

"I never went to bed," she replies.

"Let me guess. You needed my cuddles," I tease.

"How ever did you know?" Clary retorts. She settles back into me, closing her eyes. "Why aren't you sleeping at two in the morning?"

"I'm a light sleeper," I answer. "And I'm usually up pretty late."

"You need sleep, Paul."

"Says the one that runs on cat naps." Clary glares up at me. "Look, poppet, I get it. I get why you don't sleep. I'm just messing with you." Clary lays her head back on my shoulder, but her eyes dart to the door every few seconds. "Hey, remember what I told you when you came back to—"

I cut myself off before I say "to me," not wanting to sound selfish. There were others that she came back for. Others that she came back to. I quickly recover, "To the Hilltop?"

"You told me you wouldn't let the Saviors get to us."

"You're still scared of that happening, aren't you?"

Clary pauses for a moment. "They've gotten in before. While everyone was sleeping."

"I won't let it," I promise her. "You're safe here, Clary."

"In the middle of a goddamn war zone," Clary mutters as she closes her eyes. Within ten minutes, she's fallen asleep. I hold her closer when she shivers, tucking the blanket around her. She looks so much younger, as if years of stress and worry were never forced upon her. She looks happy, almost; as if she could forget about the horrors she's seen and the people she lost.

"I'm sorry for everything that you've lost," I murmur into her hair, pressing my nose against her head. "You don't deserve any of what you've been through."

She lost her home and her lover all in one night, barely two days after she lost her father and the other disappeared.

I brush my fingers past the parallel scars at her temple, then over the one on her cheek. She shifts, and I can see the scar from Dwight's bullet on her shoulder. "How many times have you been shot?" I question.

I didn't expect an answer, and I don't get one. A few minutes later, a knock sounds on my door. I lift my head, wondering who it could be as Clary is the only one I can think of that would be coming to me in the middle of the night. I start to get up, and Clary stirs. She blinks, barely awake, and she looks up at me. "Paul?" she questions, voice thick with sleep. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," I answer. "Just go back to sleep. I'll be back in a few."

Clary doesn't argue, passing out as soon as her head is back on the pillow. I run a hand through my hair as I approach the door, opening it. "Daryl," I say, slightly surprised.

"Hey," he replies, his voice quiet.

"Well, Dixon, you certainly didn't strike me as the kind of guy to show up in the middle of the night," I tease, quickly recovering from my initial shock. "Unfortunately for you, I already have company."

"My sister's here?" Daryl guesses. "I've been looking everywhere for her."

"Yeah, yeah, she's here," I assure him, sensing his worry. I step aside, allowing the older Dixon in.

"I haven't seen her sleeping like that in a while," Daryl says softly. "She did better, before the war when she was living with her dads. But since Sasha died… she's barely grabbed a wink. Last she slept, as far as I know, was two nights before the Sanctuary. She came and slept next to me."

"As long as I've known her, she's always slept next to someone," I note.

"It makes her feel safe, I think. Reassures her that she's not alone." He steps over to Clary, brushing her hair back and leaning down to kiss her forehead. Clary turns slightly, blinking as she looks up at Daryl. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Daryl," Clary says. "What're you doing here?"

"Came looking for you," he answers. "Go back to sleep. I'll be right here." Daryl glances at me over his shoulder. "If that's alright with you."

"Of course," I answer. "I'll take the couch."

"No, Paul, get over here," Clary says. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

I don't argue, laying on one side of Clary while Daryl sits on the other. Clary curls up against me, asleep again within a minute. Daryl flops back on the bed, throwing his arm around Clary. "You know, your sister, she's something else," I say, keeping my eyes closed.

"That she is," Daryl agrees. "But this war, I don't know how much longer she can do this."

"I just hope last night was it. It'll be over now."

Daryl sighs softly. "Yeah, you and me both."

* * *

I jerk awake to a scream from somewhere within the Hilltop, a second scream waking the Dixons a second later. Daryl grabs his knife, immediately taking a protective position over Clary. "What the hell was that?" Daryl questions.

More screams erupt, and Clary exclaims, "It's coming from Barrington! We have to go!"

We all scramble to climb out of bed, grabbing our weapons and rushing out the door to go help.

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

"The hell do you think it is?" Clary asks as we rush out of Jesus's trailer.

"You remember Cell Block D?" I question. I look behind me to find that Clary's frozen in place. I turn back, grabbing her arm. "Clars, c'mon! We gotta stick together, 'specially if there's walkers!"

"If there's walkers, then I gotta go!" Clary returns, pulling her arm free and taking off in the other direction.

I look over at Jesus for help, and he calls, "Where're you going?"

"The Saviors!" she shouts over her shoulder. "They either did this, or they're in danger, too!"

"Clary, what the hell?" I call. "Jesus!"

"She can keep the Saviors in check, I know it," Jesus says. "We don't have time, Daryl. We gotta go!"

So we leave Clary as she runs for the pen as we run for the others up in Barrington. We arrive to find the place in chaos, just as Cell Block D was after the flu broke out back at the prison. People scream, trying to get away from the walkers. The walkers lunge out at anything moving, grabbing onto anything they can reach.

I see a woman I recognize from the Kingdom holding off a walker, and I run to her aid. I grab it, pulling it back as I drive my knife into the base of its skull. We evacuate who we can, clearing a path for them to run out the front. I see Jesus kick a walker back, holding it against the wall with his outstretched foot. I start over to help him, but Michonne beats me to the punch, driving her sword through the walker's head.

There's another scream from within the foyer, and I turn to see Rick and Siddiq kneeling over someone, Rick with a bloody hatchet now. It doesn't take me long to figure out what's going on now that the fight is winding down. I turn as a walker emerges from a room near me, and I drive my knife into its forehead before it can grab for me. It drops to the ground, and I find myself recognizing a lot of the faces that I drove my knife into.

"The hell happened?" I question, turning to Rick as Morgan arrives. He drives his bo staff into the head of someone that's already died and turned.

"I don't know," Rick replies. "Maybe walkers got in."

"Maybe during the fight," Morgan offers.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "These are all our own people."

* * *

 _ **~Henry~**_

Gregory jerks awake when I prod his shoulder with the machine gun I stole when no one was looking. I shush him as he turns to face me, lowering my finger from my lips as I shift the machine gun to hold it with both hands. I question, "You're Gregory, right?"

"Thank God, yes," he says. He uses the fence to pull himself to his feet, and I take half a step back. Gregory gesture towards the lock. "Let me out."

I don't move. I'm not here to let Gregory out, I'm here to avenge my brother."Do you know which one killed my brother?"

"I don't know who your brother is. I don't know any of these people." Gregory glances over his shoulder to make sure none of the Saviors are awake and listening as he drops his voice to a whisper. "I'm not one of them." Gregory looks at the weapon in my hands before up at me. "That's a very dangerous weapon you got there, kiddo. Uh, I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Why don't you give it to me, and we can talk, huh?"

He must think I'm really stupid to fall for that.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Gregory tries, switching his approach. "But killing them isn't gonna bring him back."

"No," I agree. "But it'll make me feel better. It already did once." I see one of the Saviors getting to his feet, awake. Alden, I think I remember his name being. Jerry and Kal ran out to help him when he and Clary got into trouble earlier. I know he's not like the rest of the Saviors. "And why would you be in here if you're not with them? I'm not dumb. One of you knows who killed Ben, and if I have to, I'm gonna start shooting people until someone tells me."

"Hey, kid," Alden says, stepping towards the fence. "I get it. My big brother died, too. Killing a bunch of guys who mighta had something to do with it sounds pretty damn good in theory. But, uh, it's not gonna make you feel any better. Not for long. Believe me, I know. I speak from personal experience."

One of the Saviors on the ground questions, "What's up, Al?"

"Nothin', go back to sleep," he replies. We all turn at the screaming that erupts from within Barrington House, the Saviors that had previously been asleep awake now. The one with the long hair, the same one that spoke just before, darts to his feet, standing beside his blonde companion.

The Savior with the long hair steps forward, a smile on his face. "Music to my ears."

"Was it you?" I question, aiming my gun at him.

He spares me a glance. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, kid."

The asshole with the long hair goes back to watching Barrington. I can see some survivors running outside, and two more sprint up from the trailers, charging inside to fight. I turn the key in the lock on the pen, swinging open the gate as I step inside. The Saviors back up as I aim my machine gun at them, Alden raising his hands in surrender immediately.

"I want the guy who killed my brother," I demand. "Somebody better tell me _now._ "

"Look, I know you're angry," Alden says. "Okay? I know. I was, too. But words, they're a lot easier to live with than actions, alright?"

I ignore him. "Be a man, and step forward so I don't have to kill your friends." No one moves. "I'm gonna count to ten and start shooting. One… two… three… four… fi—"

One of the Saviors lets out a shout of pain as a walker from inside the pen tears into his shoulder. Immediately, all hell breaks loose.

The Saviors scatter, and I can't get a decent shot at any of them. I open fire at the walker in the pen with us, as the Saviors behind Alden dart off to the side. The next thing I know, I'm knocked on my back. I wrestle for control of the gun with the Savior with the long hair, but he manages to grab it before I do.

He backs away towards the gate, calling, "Gate's open, boys! Let's go!"

The Saviors follow him out, and he leads the way towards the Hilltop's gate. Gregory pauses at the gate of the pen before following, running to freedom. I remain on the ground, ducking down as the Saviors rush past in a stampede. I look up as Alden comes over, offering me his hand. He says, "C'mon, kid! We gotta get out of here."

Alden pulls me to my feet, pulling me out of the pen with him. He swings the gate shut on the walkers and the dying Saviors inside the pen, but a walker reaches it before Alden can put the lock on it. The walker pushes on the gate, knocking Alden back. "C'mon!" I exclaim.

Alden scrambles to his feet, turning and running after me as we take off, neither of us having weapons to take on a walker. "Run, kid!" Alden barks, pushing me ahead of him. "Get to safety!"

"Where are you going?" I ask, but I know that I'm not retreating from the fight. The Saviors got out, and I have to go after them. I have to finish what I started tonight.

"I gotta find Clary. She can help us both."

* * *

 _ **~Daryl~**_

We all turn as there's more screaming in a room upstairs. We rush up, only to find that Carol has already taken out the walker. I put my hand on her arm, turning her to face me as I search her for bites, questioning, "You alright?"

"Yeah," she replies, looking down at the body on the floor. It's Tobin, I realize a moment later. "Just… he wasn't bit, but he turned."

"Negan's bat," Rick says after a moment, and I shudder at the thought of that bitch wrapped in barbed wire. "When I was out there with him, it was covered in walker blood. I just thought he'd crossed some. But maybe…"

"They have us working for them again," Maggie says. The thought crosses all of our minds, but she's the first to say it. "Killin' our own."

"It's the fever," Bruce, a former resident of Alexandria, says from where he lays on the bed, a bandage wrapped around his injured arm. "That's what it is. It makes sense now." He looks down at his arm, his voice breaking as he looks back at us. "One of you, you're gonna have to do it. I can't. You gotta do it for me. Please. Please."

* * *

Rick leads the way into Gregory's old bedroom, which Maggie has since taken over. He raises his hand as Rosita and Enid aim their guns at him, saying, "Hey, it's me."

They lower theirs guns once they realize that Rick's living and breathing, not one of the dead. Rosita questions, "All good out there?"

"House is clear," Rick answers. "Clary's checking the rest of Hilltop."

I follow Rick inside, closing the door behind me. Tara sits on the bed, cradling her injured arm to her chest. "How'd this happen?" Tara questions.

Neither Rick nor I want to be the first to say it. I step forward, resting the back of my hand against Tara's forehand. She swats at my hand, saying, "Daryl!"

I drop my hand from her forehead. She's a little warm—it is a hot night and she's wearing a long-sleeved shirt—but she doesn't feel like she has a fever. Not yet, at least. I take a step back, telling them, "The Saviors, they, um, did something with their weapons. Everyone they cut up or got shot… they all got sick. Some of 'em turned."

"What?" Enid questions in a whisper. "No."

Tara's quiet for a long minute before she finally nods and says, "Okay."

"When we were out there, and you said you were done waiting, I coulda killed him," I tell her. "I shoulda."

"No. He wanted to be here with us. And no matter what he did or how hard he tried, I wanted him dead. No matter what Clary said or how much faith she put in him, I wanted him dead. I just couldn't let it be anything else."

"Tara…"

"Karma's a bitch, right?"

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

 _Just don't get bit, don't get bit. Don't get bit. Don't get bit._

It's the only thought that's running through my mind. I don't know if I'm telling myself not to get bit, or praying that Daryl doesn't wind up with a wound sending him to an early grave. As I run for the Saviors, I grab the bottom of my jacket, zipping it up. If there's one thing that I know, it's that the leather it's made of is too thick for a walker's mouth.

I make it down to the Saviors' pen, only to find that it's completely empty. I run to the lock, freezing the second that I see it. It wasn't busted open; someone unlocked it and let the Saviors out. _On purpose._

 _Oh, fuck._

I take off back towards Barrington, as that's where we've been keeping the weaponry. If the Saviors got out, that'd be the first place they'd go, if not running right out of the gate. Gregory was in the pen with them, so there's no doubt that the sniveling coward has already told them everything.

Over by the workers' stalls, I catch sight of someone fighting off a walker. I change directions, running towards them. I don't even know if they're friendly or not, but I run towards them anyway. I act on instinct alone, killing the walker and neutralizing the threat. It takes me a moment to recognize the face of the person I saved, half obscured in the darkness. I say, "Siddiq."

"Look out!" Siddiq cries.

I turn, only to get knocked on my back as a walker attacks me. I throw my arms up, trying to fight it off. As the walker clamps its mouth around my forearm, Siddiq shouts, "No!"

Before he can act, someone else beats him to the punch. As he arrives, he tackles the walker off me, picking up my dropped knife as he does so. He rolls with the walker, straddling it and holding it down with his knees and one hand. With the other, he drives my blade into the walker's head with a grunt. He rolls off of it, laying on his back beside it, panting. I push myself up onto my elbow, looking at my savior in the darkness. A moment later, I realize that my savior is in fact a Savior—a former one, at least. Breathless from running and fighting, I look to Alden, panting, "Thanks."

Alden mirrors me, propping himself up on his elbow. He replies, "I like to think you'd do the same for me."

I flop back onto my back, trying to catch my breath as I stare up at the stars. Siddiq scrambles to his feet, rushing, "No, no, no, no!" Siddiq drops to his knees beside me, grabbing my arm and pushing the sleeve back. "Oh, please, not you, too. Please, not—"

Siddiq cuts himself off, his mouth hanging open in shock. A moment later, still shocked, he says, "You weren't bitten."

"Leather's too thick," I tell him, pushing myself up into a sitting position. "Not my first close call."

"Clary, your arm," Alden says as he pushes himself to his feet. "Was that the one that was burnt?"

"No, that was my left one," I answer. I won't _ever_ admit it out loud, but I find his concern touching. He's a former Savior that I've threatened to kill, but he's still worried. Alden appears over us, offering his hand. He pulls Siddiq to his feet first, then the two pull me to mine, my knife still in Alden's other hand. Of course, the moment he's handing my knife back to me is the moment the others arrive, Maggie barking, "Hands up! Now!"

Alden immediately complies, and I push him behind me when I see the guns aimed at him. "Hey, hey, hey!" I shout. "Guns down _now!_ You don't touch him!"

At the same time, Alden rushes, "Hey! I'm trying to help! A–a–a–a kid came and opened up the pen! We had people turn! A bunch of 'em ran, but a bunch of 'em are trying to close that gate!"

"Maggie, look," Jesus says, pointing to the gate.

I don't even have to look at the gate to know that Alden's telling the truth. I say, "I believe him."

"Clary?" Jesus asks.

"I believe him," I repeat, louder this time. "Alden's only tried to help. And he just saved my life, which warrants a little trust."

"Dianne," Maggie orders.

"We're on it," Dianne says. "C'mon."

She takes off for the gate with Kal and Eduardo, and Maggie steps towards us, gun still raised. "Maggie, hey, hey," I rush, backing up towards Alden to cover him. "Mags!"

Maggie ignores me, instead firing at a walker growling up at the watchpost. Maggie lowers her guns as she turns around to look at Siddiq, questioning, "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I went to check on the prisoners, but the pen was empty," Siddiq explains. "Clary saved my ass and then he saved hers."

Maggie turns to where Alden and I stand. Alden still has one hand raised in the air, the other he placed on my back to keep from backing into him. She demands, "Where are the others?"

"They didn't say where they were going," Alden answers. "They just ran."

"And you didn't?"

"You saw what we mean to Negan and Simon," Alden replies, lowering his hands. "Which might be a dumb thing to say. It doesn't make us worth much to your people, either, but… those of us that stayed, stayed." I take another step back, closer to him, extending my arm to keep him behind me and making the choice of who I'm willing to protect clear. "We had plenty of chances to run."

"Maggie, whether or not you believe him, I do," I say, then look over my shoulder at him. "Alden, you'd pledge your fidelity, your loyalty, right?"

"That I would, ma'am."

"Well, there you have it." I look back at Maggie. "Alden's one of my guys now. Nobody touches him. _Nobody._ " I turn around to face Alden, pressing my knife back into his hand. "Stick with me, pretty boy, and we might make it through this."

Alden pushes the knife back to me. "I appreciate this, I really do. But I can't take it. If the rest of your people don't trust me enough to be armed, then I'll wait until they do. I don't want to make 'em even more uncomfortable with a former Savior in their midst."

"It might not seem like much to you, but I know how it feels to be a sheep in wolf's clothing amidst the other sheep. I understand, Alden. You may be one of us, one of my guys, but they still see a Savior. I get it."

I take the knife back, sheathing it. Alden questions, "So... what happens next?"

"We're in for nasty weather," I say. "There's a storm coming, and the Saviors are smacked right in the middle of it."


	15. 14: All Along the Watchtower

**AN: So I've totally been going against everything I stand for considering I usually get annoyed when there's ANs at the beginning of a chapter, but I did want to say that this chapter, along with the next one, were one of my favorite chapters to write, so I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: All Along the Watchtower**

 _ **~Clary~**_

I spot Daryl sitting on the tailgate of the truck parked by Barrington, cleaning his crossbow bolts. He looks up as I approach, offering me a small smile. I climb up into the bed of the truck behind him, wrapping myself around my brother. I bury my face in his shoulder, legs around his waist and arms snaked around his torso. "Christ, the bearded wonder wasn't kidding," Daryl says. "You _are_ a koala."

"Darry," I say.

"Oh, is that something you only let him call you?" Daryl asks. "Shit, sorry, I—"

"I love you _,"_ I whisper.

"I love you, too, Clars," Daryl responds. He looks at me over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Just… missing everyone we lost, you know? I'd give anything right now to just… to just _talk_ to Sam. He always knew what to say. And Sophia… she could bring a smile to anyone's face. It's like… she always knew when someone needed cheering up. And—"

"Hey, don't you start that again. Sophia wasn't on you."

"I wasn't even thinkin' 'bout that," I tell him.

"Shit, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's okay. Really." I shake my head, sighing. "I keep thinkin' about how Merle, when he finally tried to do something good, it killed him. I keep thinkin' about how Sebastian was at Alexandria for God knows how long, only for him to die barely two weeks before we got there. I keep thinkin' about how we get so damn close, only for the rug to get ripped right out from under us."

"You think we're gonna lose," Daryl guesses.

"No," I answer. "No, Daryl. I'm scared I'm gonna lose _you_. I'm scared I'm gonna lose Aaron or Paul, 'cause whenever it looks like we're winning, something else _always_ happens. We always lose someone. I wouldn't be able to go on if that someone is you."

"Hey, we'll make it out. We're Dixons. It's what we do, remember? We survive. We've always been survivors."

I don't respond for a long time, just sitting there, enjoying the time I have with Daryl. I don't get a lot of this anymore—moments when nothing's happening and I can just _sit_ and breathe with my big brother. After a while, I whisper, "I'm sorry."

"The hell you have to be sorry for?" Daryl questions.

"For how I keep pushing you away since… since the office outpost, and then with Carl."

"Hey, don't you dare apologize. You were working through things that _no one_ should have to work through."

"I pushed you away and I knew it was hurting you."

"Clary, you know I would do anything for you. I would never hurt you. I don't give a shit if you hurt me, as long as it's what you need. I'll suffer for you in a heartbeat."

"Not even then should you be in any more pain," I say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "After all they've done to you, I can't let them hurt you again."

Daryl closes his eyes, leaning his head back against mine. "The Dixon Duo," Tara says as she approaches, but I don't look up, instead keeping my face in Daryl's shoulder. "Don't see you two like this much anymore."

"It used to be a trio," I mutter into Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl turns, kissing the top of my head, before turning back to Tara. Tara sighs softly before she says, "It's been over a day. Still not sick. Doc says I'm cool."

Daryl's hair tickles my forehead as he shakes his head, letting out a soft chuckle before he says, "You're a tough son of a bitch."

"Daryl, it just means that Dwight shot me with a clean arrow."

"Or it means that you got lucky. Could be anything. It's not like a bite. Sometimes nothing happens." I stiffen, my arms tightening around Daryl. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Tara starts, "Daryl…"

"Look, if Dwight knew," Daryl objects, "he could've warned us. He could've sent us a message."

"Well, maybe he couldn't."

"He let a _whole day_ go by while our people lay around dyin'."

"Everybody else in the battle who got injured got sick. That _can't_ be an accident."

"So he just gets a pass?" Daryl demands. "Is that it?"

"Maybe," Tara answers. "Look, you said that we might need him, and we might need him now more than ever. And what I'm saying is if I had killed him, maybe _I_ would be dead right now. And Clary, you were right." I lift my head from Daryl's shoulder at my name. "You told me to leave Dwight alone, and I didn't listen. I should've listened. I'm sorry."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, Tara, you don't need to apologize for anything. I'm the one that needs to. What I said, I'm so sorry, Tara. I don't know what that was or where it came from. It's not who I am and it's not who I'm trying to be. Yeah, I will still vouch for Dwight, but I'm not gonna stop you—either of you—if you go after him."

"Do what you gotta do," Tara says, looking down at Daryl. "But know it's just for you. I'm out."

As Tara walks away, Daryl looks over at me. He questions, "You think she's right? You've always trusted Dwight."

"I don't know," I admit. "I don't know what's right anymore. I don't even know who I can trust aside from you, Aaron, and Jesus. I trust Maggie and Rosita. Maybe Dwight, I don't know." I bow my head. "I don't trust Rick anymore. I should've seen it before, but I didn't."

"This isn't the place to talk about this," Daryl whispers. "We don't know who's listening. Come with me."

I follow Daryl inside Barrington, into Maggie's office, where Rosita is giving Maggie and Dianne an update on the relay cars. Daryl looks down at me, whispering, "What about Dianne?"

I give a small nod. Dianne's been at Maggie's side since this started, and she's smart. I think I can trust her.

"Rose," I say. "How much time will we have?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes heads up if the Saviors come back," Rosita answers.

"And our ammo?" Maggie questions.

"'Bout what we thought," Dianne informs us. "Not enough to fend off another attack of that size."

"Well, maybe we don't gotta worry about that no more," Daryl says, pulling me further into Maggie's office. "At least for now. Maybe goin' hand-to-hand's our only option."

"You think they're low on ammo?" Rosita questions.

"Well, they must've gone through a whole bunch of it gettin' through them walkers at the Sanctuary."

"And there's not a lot of places left to find more," Dianne adds.

" _Mierda_ ," Rosita sighs, then glances at me. " _Pueden hacer balas."_

" _Mierda,"_ I echo.

Maggie questions, "What is it?"

"They have Eugene," I say.

"They have our bullet maker," Rosita continues, looking around at the others. "They _can_ make bullets."

"You think the Saviors have what he'd need to make 'em?" Maggie questions.

"Shit," I say. "That day we lost Denise… he took Abe somewhere. Eugene _wanted_ to make bullets before. He knows where they could find some."

"I know where it is," Rosita says. "Eugene had been talking about making some place into a factory."

"They could have that place up and running by now."

"So we go see for ourselves," Daryl decides. "I'll go. Rosita, Clary, come with?"

"Sure," Rosita says, and I nod in agreement.

"Be careful," Maggie requests. "Come back soon."

"Yes ma'am," Daryl says. The three of us exit, quickly gathering supplies and loading them into Daryl's truck. I turn as someone approaches from behind me, putting my crossbow down in the bed. "Rick," I say, slightly surprised that I'm seeing him. "What's going on?"

"I need your help," he says. "Outside the walls."

"Rick, I—"

"I'm going after the Saviors. The, er, the prisoners that escaped. I need you there."

"Rick, I-I-I-I—" I stutter, struggling to find the right words. I don't want to be out there if I don't have to, and not with Rick. I find myself weighing which is the greater threat: Saviors or Rick. A group, or one grieving man. It takes me a long moment to answer, but I finally say, "Okay. Let me grab a—" Rick presses a gun into my hands. "—gun… Okay, then."

"Clary, you sure?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah, it's okay," I lie. "I'll catch up."

"Come with me," Rick says. I steal one last glance at a worried Daryl as I follow Rick, looking from him to Alden in confusion as we approach the former Savior. He questions, "Where'd they go?"

Alden answers, "We already told Maggie every—"

"So tell me," Rick interrupts.

Alden's eyes dart to me, and I give him a small nod. He looks back to Rick, telling him, "Sanctuary's our best guess. It's pretty much our only guess. There'd been some talk about tryin' to get out, but it was just talk, nothin' specific. Thinkin' they had a plan's giving 'em too much credit. They saw an opening, and they took it."

"What if it was you?" Rick questions. "How would you get back there? You're on foot, there's probably someone injured. Maybe you need a place to hole up and figure things out."

"There's an old dive bar three miles off Edgehill Parkway. Some of 'em, uh, took me there once. I was going to college for architecture when this thing started. They wanted my expert opinion on what it'd take to turn the place into an outpost. It's between here and there, but the chances they'd actually g—"

Rick cuts Alden off by turning and walking away. As he turns, he grabs my arm, roughly pulling me with him. Alden drops the bucket he's holding upon seeing the fear cross my face, taking my other arm and stopping Rick from pulling me away. Alden's hand is gentler, not gripping my bicep nearly as tightly as Rick's. "Hey, let her go, man!"

Rick releases me, but he reaches for his gun as he orders, "Take your hands off her. _Now._ "

"Rick, he's fine," I say, but Alden has already dropped his hand from my arm. I glance over my shoulder at him, mouthing my thanks.

"Clary, I don't know if this is any kind of a lead," he admits. "But if you're going out there… if it's not for nothing, can you do me a favor? If you happen to find 'em, don't kill any more of 'em than you have to."

"They deserve to die, Alden," I reply after a moment.

"You're probably right. The Saviors are bad people. The ones that ran last night made a choice. They made the wrong choice, and some of 'em, it probably hasn't hit 'em yet. You two could show 'em by bringing 'em back, that there's more than just that choice. They shouldn't have to die over one mistake."

"People die over mistakes all the time," I say.

"Killing them won't bring your friends back."

"No, it won't. I _know_ that. I killed the Governor, and it didn't bring back Merle or Jesse. I killed Aiden, and it didn't bring back Sebastian or Alex. I kill walkers all the time, and it doesn't bring back Sam or Sophia or Carl. If I kill Negan and the Saviors, it won't bring back Glenn or Eric. _I know that._ But it'll be one less threat to the ones that are still here." I step closer to Alden, looking up at him. "They'll be one less threat to our people."

* * *

My heart skips a beat as Rick slaps his hand over my mouth, muffling my cry of surprise. He pulls me against him, back against a tree. My heart thuds in my chest so loudly I'm sure the walkers can hear it. Rick holds me in front of him, one hand over my mouth as if I haven't been stuck waiting for walkers to pass before. I pull myself out of Rick's grasp as I hear footsteps approaching us from the right—the herd of walkers are off to our left and that's a living person tramping through the woods on our right. I draw my gun, but before I get a chance to defend myself, there's the bloodstained, sharpened end of Morgan's staff at my throat. "Morgan, Morgan, it's me," I rush, my voice shaking with fear due to the imminent threat of death. "Morgan!"

I try to talk him down, but Morgan doesn't listen. It's like he doesn't even hear me. He lets out a feral growl, as if he's no longer human, and presses the stick closer to my throat. I swallow as I feel the tip of it jabbing my jugular. _It's like when I first met him,_ I realize. _He's gone off the deep end again. He's going to kill us._

I try to back away, then trip over a root and fall to the ground. Morgan follows me, pressing his stick into my throat. I let out a whimper as I feel just how sharp it is. "Morgan," Rick hisses, hands raised to show he means no harm. "Morgan, you know me. You know us."

I never really trusted Morgan, especially after Jesus told me how Morgan nearly killed him the same way he threatens me now. I know I'm not safe out here. If not for the walkers, if not for the Saviors, then I'm not safe out here with the two men around me. Rick doesn't care about anything anymore except revenge, and it doesn't matter to Morgan whether he kills me or not.

Morgan blinks, pulling his staff away from my throat and taking a step back. I turn on my side, pushing myself up onto my knees with one hand while the other goes to my throat. I crawl behind Rick, knowing Morgan, as crazy as he is, doesn't stand a chance against Rick. And if he does make it past Rick, he'll be slowed down enough for me to maybe stand a chance at getting away. _This is the second time Morgan's tried—really, truly tried—to kill me,_ I realize. _Oh, God, what if he succeeds the next time? What if no one's there to stop him? What if he kills me and Rick in the next few minutes and just_ leaves _our bodies out here? No one would know what happened to us. And I told Daryl I'd catch up, that it'd be okay._

"Clary," Rick hisses, his voice snapping me out of my internal panic. However, some of it must've shown on the outside as he questions, "Hey, you with me?"

I manage a nod, my eyes never leaving Morgan.

"I'm not right," Morgan says. "I'm not right."

"Maybe you shouldn't be out here," Rick says, turning back to Morgan.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

"You're out here for them. Us, too."

 _I'm not._

"Then we finish it," Rick continues. "The three of us."

 _I can't._

* * *

"One of 'em told me about a place they might hole up," Rick says, leading the way through the forest.

"His name's Alden," I interrupt. "And he ain't one of them."

"Yeah, you say that about Dwight, too."

"Hey," I say, stepping in front of him and making him stop. "You got something you wanna say to me, Rick Grimes?"

"No," Rick says with a shake of his head. "Let's keep moving." Rick pushes around me, and Morgan follows behind him. "It's taking the road there, the herd."

"Yeah, I know."

"Get out of here!" a shout comes from off to our right. We turn to see a woman aiming a machine gun at us, her back pressed against her jeep.

Of course, I'm the one that ends up in front. So, I put my hands up, calling, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! Hey! We don't mean no trouble!"

"Turn around slow and just walk away."

I can see Morgan aim his gun at her out of my peripheral vision. Figures. "Hey, hey," Rick hisses to him. "She's not one of them."

"We're all one of them," Morgan replies, not lowering his weapon.

"Morgan, we need to go."

"We're going, miss!" I call, hands still raised. "Watch yourself, alright? There's a herd of the dead close by."

"We don't know who she is," Morgan growls.

"Just go!" the woman shouts.

"We don't know who she is!" Morgan pushes around me, knocking me to the ground, as he steps closer. "You are not here. You're not here! Not now! Not now! Not here!"

Rick grabs Morgan, pulling him with him as they turn to run. I scramble to my feet after him as the woman raises her gun and fires a warning shot into the air. "Save your bullets, lady!" I shout. "They're comin'!"

I follow Rick and Morgan as they hightail it away, slowing to a walk as we near the road. Rick leads the way out, staring down at the puddle of blood on the road. There's an amputated arm and foot just lying there, bite marks on both of them. "Well," I say, "the pretty boy was right. They definitely came this way."

Something strikes Rick, and he falls forward.

"Rick!" I exclaim. I turn when a branch snaps behind me, and I catch a glimpse of long hair and a flannel before I'm hit in the head.

* * *

I let out a soft groan as I come around, lifting my head. I try to move, but my hands are tied. "Well, well, well," a voice says a with a humorless laugh. The Savior with the long hair kneels in front of me. "The Orphan's awake. Have a nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?"

"It was wonderful, actually," I shoot back.

Whatever smartass reply he has is cut off by one of the Saviors coughing, another one saying, "We had to get off the road, out of the forest, and still… maybe we didn't do it in time."

"Yeah, maybe we did," another Savior returns. "Maybe they don't look so hot 'cause we hacked off part of them. We're not just gonna leave 'em here."

The Savior in front of me stands, walking over and pointing down at the two Saviors on the floor. "Look at them," he says. "They're dead already, Evan."

"He's right," a third Savior says. "They knew the rules. You pooch it, nobody carries you."

"After everything we've been through?" Evan questions. "Things are shaky, man. Let's not—"

"Look, we got the rules so somebody goin' down don't take the rest of us with 'em."

"Case in point, we could've been halfway home by now," the Savior with the long hair says.

"Say we make it, what then?" Evan questions.

"He's right, Jared," another Saviors agrees. "What do we got waiting for us back there?"

I look down as the realization hits; Jared has been right here all along. I glance over at Rick as he whispers, "How long have I been out?"

"Just long enough to get here," Morgan replies.

"Maybe we go our own way, be done with the Saviors," one of the Saviors from before proposes. "We pooched it. Simon wasn't gonna carry us."

"That's right," Jared says. "Because we lost. But things—" Jared walks over to us, gesturing down to me. "—have changed. Delivering Rick the Prick and the Orphan to Negan is a win. We wiped our own asses on this one, and the big man is gonna recognize."

"Hey," Evan says, looking towards Rick. "He's awake."

Jared chuckles, stepping towards Rick. "Rise and shine, curly. You ready to do some walking? Yeah, of course you are. Pack it up, boys! We're ditching the dead weight and moving on. This is a loose-end sort of thing, and that's it. It's gonna be better for you, better for us."

Jared turns, walking over and picking up a microphone stand from beside the old karaoke machine. He raises it to swing, but Rick objects, "Wait! My truck's not far. We can get 'em to Hilltop's doctor. They could come back with us. You all could. You didn't want this. You made a split-second choice, and you chose wrong. But it's not too late. You cut us loose, you cooperate… we'll give you a fresh start. A chance to become part of our community, to become one of us. I'm giving you my word. There's not a lot that's worth much these days, but a man's word has still gotta mean something."

The Saviors all look around at each other, and Jared breaks the silence as he drops the microphone stand onto the ground, drawing attention to himself at the thud. "You asshats aren't dumb enough to believe that, are you?" he questions.

"We can hear him out," Evan says. "We could talk it over."

"We don't got time for that," I say. "There's a herd close by that's closin' in with every second that passes. Y'all need to make a choice, right—"

"Wake up, everybody!" Jared shouts. "There isn't any herd! There isn't any deal waiting back at Hilltop. You think these fuckers came here to save us? They came here for _blood_." Jared points to Morgan. "Hell, this one strangled one of his own guys to death with his _own hands."_

"You killed the kid," I snap, then shake my head. "Look, that shit happened and is in the past. If there's one thing I believe it, it's second chances. I've been given many. I will give you one. All you have to do us denounce your loyalty to Negan and follow us. We get back to Hilltop, and you all will be under my protection. No harm will come to you. I _swear it._ "

"Some of you actually believe her," Jared says, looking around. "All they're preaching is a steaming pile of bullshit."

"You know, you're right," Morgan says. "I came here to do what I was supposed to do. To kill every last one of you."

Jared scoffs, taking a stolen machine gun off his back as he makes his way over to us. I flinch back as he raises it, but it's not me he's aiming it at. He points it directly at Morgan's face, who doesn't even flinch. Instead, he smiles.

"You should save your bullets, Jared. You're gonna need 'em. That herd, it is coming. Maybe they'll hear the coughs or the moans, you know? Maybe they'll just stumble in through open walls, but they are coming. And then after, when you're just torn skin and loose teeth and blood… when you're nothin' but the stuff that they didn't eat… well, that'll be a damn shame. Because there won't be a single one of you left for me to kill."

"We're done," Jared says, standing. "Let's dump 'em and bounce. I want a sandwich. You know what? We'll bring the Orphan, I think. Negan's always liked her. I think he'll reward us for bringing her. Maybe get a wife for a night." Jared's eyes flick over me. "Or the Orphan."

"Oh, fuck you, you creep," I snap.

"You might." Jared chuckles to himself. "It's a damn shame, though, Juliet, that Alden won't get you."

I glance over at the captive beside me. "Morgan, can you kill this asshole already?"

"It doesn't change," Morgan says. "It never changes." Morgan raises his voice, and I'm sure the walkers outside can hear him. "And I don't die! I don't! Nobody dies! 'Cause everybody turns!"

Jared turns, aiming his gun at Morgan, but Evan moves to block him. "What're you doing?" Evan demands. "You'll ruin our chances of gettin' back to Hilltop."

Jared backs off, the dive bar falling silent. It's so silent that I can hear the walkers growling outside as they approach.

"Walkers!" one of the Saviors warns as they start coming in through the open walls, just as Morgan said. "We're surrounded."

"Thing is, we've already killed you," Rick says.

"Morgan, what the hell have you done?!" I exclaim. "We're dead, too!"

Some of the Saviors back up, opening fire on the walkers that have crowded around the two on the floor, beginning to devour them. "You're too weak to take on the herd alone," Rick says. "Cut us loose. Give us our weapons. We can help you!"

"No!" Jared shouts. "Nobody's cutting anybody loose! I'm killing these pricks right now!"

Jared spins to aim at us, but a Savior hits him with the microphone stand, saving our lives. Jared falls, the gun sliding across the floor to where Evan picks it up. The Savior that spared us is surrounded by walkers, and they take him down. "If you're gonna cut us loose, do it now!" I bark, helpless as walkers near.

I see Rick scramble to his feet out of the corner of my eye, free. He turns and gets out of the path of the walkers, and Morgan follows him a moment later. I can feel someone tugging at the ropes binding me to the leg of the table, but they're not working fast enough. A walker reaches towards me, and I kick at it, trying to knock it back.

The hands working on untying me disappear, and I find myself wondering if they've abandoned me here. Instead, the Savior comes to my rescue, shoving the walker away and shooting it. He finishes cutting me loose, pulling me to my feet and passing my gun back to me. In that time, the walkers catch up to us. They grab him, tearing into him as they pull him down. I run, jumping up onto a pool table in an attempt to get above the walkers as I fire down at them. I stand in the middle, just out of their reach as they surround me, drawn by the sound of my gun firing.

My gun clicks, empty of bullets. I holster it, grabbing a pool cue. I spin it in my hands, swinging it and pushing aside enough walkers for me to jump over the bodies of the ones I killed. I roll as I land, coming up on one knee and driving the cue into the head of a walker above me. I pull it out as I stand. I get through three walkers before it snaps in half in the head of the third. I drive the rest of the stick into the head of the next walker, dropping back behind the others. I draw my knife, starting to get real scared now. I'm surrounded by a herd of walkers, Saviors, and people I don't know if I can trust—with no ammo, at that.

Rick looks down at his gun after taking down a walker, then to one of the Saviors. "We're almost out," Rick tells him. "Go on ahead. We'll be right behind."

The Savior nods, taking Rick's place on the front line. I watch Rick grab his hatchet, thinking nothing of it. We're surrounded by walkers and he's almost out of ammo, right? _Wrong. So very wrong,_ I think as I can only watch as Rick turns on the Saviors he just promised sanctuary and safety to.

Morgan, however, must have known this was coming. It's the only explanation I can think of when he immediately turns and stabs another Savior with his staff. _Unless he was planning it on his own. Would he have killed Rick? Is he going to kill me?_ One Savior, who's out of ammo as well, turns to me. He charges at me, and I duck, swiping my knife up in the hope to defend myself.

I don't want to kill these people. People are a resource. And Alden, well, I think Alden may have been right. They don't deserve to die. They made a mistake. I've made mistakes, and people have given me second chances. They've given me third and fourth chances, too. These Saviors deserve a second chance, except for Jared. He's the only one that needs to die.

I don't want to kill the Savior. I just need to get him away from me long enough for me to take cover. I don't want to be part of this. I _can't_ be part of this. After that night at the Hilltop, when I stood above everyone and killed without hesitation, when I played God, when I _stopped counting._ I can't be part of this anymore. If I am, Aaron won't have anything to come back to. Killing any more people will kill me.

I duck under the Savior's arms, slicing upwards. I hear him cry out, finding a long cut over his entire torso. He drops to the ground as it begins bleeding, but he isn't bleeding fast enough that he will bleed out. The walkers aren't near him, either. Rick's taking care of them as he slaughters the rest of the Saviors. _After we kill the walkers, maybe I can save him,_ I wish.

Instead of fighting, I vault over the bar, dropping to the ground behind it. I hide underneath the bar, covering my head when a stray bullet causes the mirror to shatter and rain glass on me. I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to drown out the sound of the massacre and block the memories. Another shootout in a bar, one so long ago.

Rick killed Dave. I killed Tony. It wasn't the first that I had killed—the girl in Room 9 was bitten and I ended it for her—but it was the first that I killed for someone else, for defense.

This shootout isn't that. This isn't any self-defense. This isn't saving family or our group. This is Rick, losing his shit because the last thing he had from before the world ended is gone. This is Rick, going to a place that's too far to come back from. This is Rick, the _real_ Rick, the Rick that's been hiding for the sake of his son.

I slap a hand over my mouth before I can let out a sob, giving away my location. I'm terrified; I never should have agreed to come out here. Aaron doesn't want me out here—he can't stand to lose what little he has left. I didn't want to come out here—I can't, not after all that I've lost because of what's outside the gates and the walls. Daryl didn't want me to come—that much was clear, even if he didn't say it. He doesn't trust Rick with my safety anymore.

 _Please, make it stop_ , I silently beg as I hear screaming from another part of the bar. _Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!_

Then, all at once, it goes quiet, like the brief moment of serenity in the eye of a hurricane. There's no sound, and I hold my breath, not knowing who made it to the end of the shootout, if anyone. I jump at a gunshot, sounding like it was just on the other side of the bar. I hear footsteps, and I push myself further under the bar as the footsteps near.

"Clary?" I hear Rick question from above me. "Clary, are you back here? Are you hurt?"

I don't answer, shaking too much to speak. Rick climbs over the bar, glass crunching underneath his boots. He crouches in front of me, pulling my hands away from my ears. I jerk my hands from his grasp, rushing, "Don't hurt me."

Rick pulls his hands back, holding them up. "Hey, it's alright," he says. "It's alright, Clary. It's me. It's Rick. I'm not going to hurt you." He offers me a hand. "C'mon. We need to go."

I don't take it, instead using the bar to pull myself up with trembling arms. We climb over, and I hear a groan on the floor below. "I thought I got them all," Rick mutters to himself.

He steps towards the Savior, and I find that it's the same one that I injured during the fight. I open my mouth to protest his murder, to stop Rick with the hope of helping him. Rick doesn't give me the chance, instead plunging his knife into the Savior's head. I look away, watching Morgan approach. He doesn't look at me as he walks past, then pauses. He turns just enough to look back at me, then tells me, "Jared's dead."

I don't reply, the only thought on my mind that of Henry. Who's going to tell him that the man that murdered his brother is finally dead? Then, I remember what I found out earlier this morning: Henry's missing. He disappeared the night before, most likely having gone after the Saviors. _God, when will this end? When will it all be over?_

We need to end this, end the bloodshed. It needs to happen soon, too. It needs to happen before we lose everyone. There has to be a way to end it, a way out of this war. There must be some kind of way out of here. Some way, _any_ way, before everyone's dead. Before more kids die, before more widows and orphans are made.

* * *

Alden's eyes bore into me as I follow Rick and Morgan inside the gate, disappointed that we're the only ones returning. Morgan ventures off to tell Henry—who has, thankfully, returned unharmed in the time we were gone— about Jared. Rick continues up to Barrington, where Michonne waits for him. With Aaron missing, Jesus on the relay team, and Daryl on the stakeout with Rosita, no one waits for me to return.

 _No, she was waiting,_ I realize as I'm suddenly crushed in a hug by Carol. She cradles my head against her shoulder with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around me and not letting me go anywhere. I don't complain. Her armor digs into my skin, but I ignore it, instead clinging to her. "I can't do it anymore," I whimper against her, choking on tears. "I can't do it, Carol. I know why you left. I get it now."

"It's alright," Carol croons, gently stroking my hair. "It's alright. You don't have to do any more fighting. It's almost over. We can finish it."

"Rick's a _monster_ ," I whisper. I break away from her embrace, looking in her eyes to ensure she hears me. "He killed _them all._ Morgan did, too. Carol, they're too far gone. They're not _human_ anymore."

"Hey, hey, hey, breathe," Carol says. "Breathe, Clary. Take a breath, and tell me what happened."

I take a breath, just as she says. "The Saviors, the ones that escaped the pen last night. Rick dragged me after 'em to hunt 'em down, only I didn't know we were hunting them. We found them, and I couldn't do it. So I hid as Rick and Morgan slaughtered them."

I close my eyes, bowing my head as I press my forehead into her shoulder. "Your brother does this same exact thing," Carol tells me.

"I told him I'd be okay going with Rick. I wasn't." I lift my head, glancing over her shoulder at Alden. "And he was right."

I give Carol one last hug before leaving her. She returns to Ezekiel and Henry, while I make my way over to where Alden sits by a fire with Dianne, sitting in the empty space beside him. I glance towards Alden, choosing not to bring up what Jared said about the two of us. I put my empty gun on the ground between us, staring into the fire. Alden looks at the gun, then at me. Dianne starts, "Clary—"

"It's empty," I say. "I got surrounded by walkers."

Alden asks, "Is that why… why it's just you three?"

For a long time, I don't answer, instead staring into the flames. Finally, I whisper, "We killed them. I… you were right. They didn't have to die, only Jared did. I promised them no harm would come to them if they untied us and came with us back to the Hilltop. Rick gave them his word, an offer of safety. I meant it, but he lied. His word used to mean something. It doesn't, not anymore. He promised them sanctuary, and then he killed them all."

"How many did you kill?" Alden asks after a moment.

"Two," I answer. "One cut me loose, gave me my gun, and then the walkers got him before I could take out the walkers. Rick turned on 'em, and one came at me. I tried not to. I just tried to injure him so he wouldn't kill me, so I could bring him back and Siddiq could fix him up. Rick killed him after."

"You didn't kill those two," Dianne assures me.

"I did," I argue. "Not directly, no. But those are two more people that are dead because of my actions or lack thereof." A minute passes, and I look up when I realize Alden's watching me. I ask, "What?"

"The way Negan talked about you," Alden starts, then pauses, shaking his head. "That's not who you are. You may have been that person once, but not anymore."

"I lost _everything_ because of the Saviors. I used to be the person Negan thought I was or I'd become. Not anymore." A realization suddenly hits me. "But Negan doesn't know that. Alden, you're a genius!" I grab his face, squishing his cheeks and looking into his eyes. "You goddamn genius, you! Thank you! I gotta go!"

I release Alden, getting to my feet. I leave my gun on the ground, as it's empty and an empty gun would just make things worse where I'm going. Alden questions, "Wait, where are you going?"

I pause, looking down at him. "I got something I gotta do on my own."

* * *

I exit the woods, looking over my shoulder to make sure the walkers that I heard aren't nearby. I keep my knife gripped tightly in my hand, the only weapon I brought with me when I left the Hilltop. I walk right up to the gate, and the guard immediately pulls a gun on me. I raise my hands in surrender, rushing, "Whoa, hey, I come in peace."

The guard demands, "Why the hell are you here?"

"I know he's here," I say. "Here, this knife is all that I have." I pass the guard my knife through the gate. "Please, I just need to talk to him. It's important. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that I could end this war." I glance over my shoulder as I hear snarling, then back to the guard, eyes widening. "Please. I just gave you all I have. Don't leave me out here."

The guard hesitates for a moment, then pulls open the gate. I step inside, past the snapping walkers chained to the fences. I step inside, the guard closing and locking the gate behind me. I step inside, voluntarily locking myself, completely unarmed, within the confines of the Sanctuary.


	16. 15: Hall of the Mountain King

**Chapter 15: Hall of the Mountain King**

 _ **~Negan~**_

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," D.J. says after I open my door for him. "But there's a… very pressing matter that you need to attend to."

"It's one in the fucking morning," I say. "It can't wait?"

"I don't think so, sir," D.J. replies. "She was very insistent on seeing you now."

"So this matter's a she?" I question. "Who?"

"The Orphan, sir. She's here."

"Well, god _damn_. Let's go say hello."

* * *

I can see inside the conference room as I approach; Clary sits with her back to the door, humming and her feet up on the table. I stand in the doorway for a minute, just watching her. She doesn't seem terrified, despite being in the heart of the enemy's territory. In fact, she seems almost at ease, as if she's already accepted all the possible outcomes of the situation.

"Kid, you really must want to die, coming here," I say.

Clary jerks in surprise, getting to her feet as she turns to face me. "Negan."

"I mean, I always knew you were a fiery little spitfuck," I continue, "but I _never_ thought you'd come here. On your own. Unarmed."

"Just because I'm unarmed doesn't mean I can't fight," Clary returns.

I smirk, looking her over. "Oh, I don't doubt that." Clary takes a step backwards as I walk further inside, her eyes never leaving me as I cross the room, standing at the opposite end of the table. "You've got spunk, kid. I knew it from the moment I met you." I take a seat, leaning against the table. "So… what brings Little Orphan Annie to the Sanctuary?"

"Death," she simply answers.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "You do anything to me, there's over a hundred Saviors between you and the fences. They'll kill you."

"Then you'll burn cheek to cheek in Hell with a dead girl walking," she replies. She glances down with a sigh before back up at me. "I'm not here, Negan, for your death. Rest assured, that day will come; but it is not today. I'm here because I need you."

"You must be _truly_ desperate to come to _me_ for help."

"I am," Clary admits. "I'm willing to ask the devil for a favor."

"You are serious, aren't you? Look at you, here with the Saviors. Do your people know where you are, what you're doing?"

"I have no other choice," she says. "The only other option is that _everyone_ dies. You, me, your men, my men. We all join the undead. But people are a resource. So you and I have to figure things out, or else that's what's gonna happen. I'm here because I think we want the same thing."

I smirk. This kid's good. This definitely isn't her first negotiation. "And what might that be?"

"An end to this," she says. "Negan, I want this to be over. I think you and I are the only ones capable of finding a solution."

"You know what I want," I tell her.

"You mean who," Clary corrects.

"Clever girl," I say. "I want Rick. You can keep your Widow, you can keep your King, but I _want Rick._ "

Clary doesn't even think about it for a second. "You can have him. You can have Rick." She takes a seat across the table from me. "The only reason I kept him breathing this long was because of Carl. Now he's gone, and Rick is showing his true colors. I always knew Rick was dangerous, but I didn't think he was this stupid."

"You mean like trying to take me out with a whole caravan of my men right in front of me?"

"Exactly. My dad once said that Rick thinks he's keeping us safe, but he's putting us in danger. He kills and he kills and he can't leave shit well enough alone. He gets our people killed. He got Carl killed. He got Glenn killed."

"Glenn?"

"The… the second one, that night. The Widow's husband." Clary glances down. "The baby's father." She looks back up at me. "You took a father away from his unborn child, and Glenn would've made the _best_ father in the _entire world_. He was already the best brother, and we weren't even siblings by _blood_. What you did that night, that's not something I can forgive and it's not something I'll _ever_ forget. But I have to put that aside for right now, 'cause there's a bigger threat out there."

"I'm guessing you don't mean the dead."

Clary nods once. "When we were still back in Georgia, he got my brother Merle killed. He got _Eric_ killed. My dad's dead because of him."

"Oh, shit," I murmur. "I'm sorry about your father. I know you probably don't believe me, but I _am._ "

"You said that about Carl, too," Clary replies. "Every revolution has a martyr, but I didn't want Carl to be ours. I heard you, over the radio, when Rick told you. I heard all of that."

"I meant what I said. I respected the little one-eyed squirrel. And I respect you, too."

"Negan, those plans you had. What if… what if I'm in them? Instead of Carl? What you wanted him to be, to become… what if that's me? What if I become that?"

"You sayin' you wanna work for me?"

"Negan, I don't know what I want. But I know how to adapt, I know how to lie, I… I know how to kill. I don't know what it is you wanted Carl to become, but I will take his place at your side."

"Okay," I say, nodding. "You've always had my respect, kid. I never believed for a second that you were the leader of that group, but the way you stood up for them, the way that you put yourself in harm's way, that took balls. You've got some big ole lady cojones. I respect that. Job's yours after this." I look down at my hands, remembering how it felt when Lucille died. "You… you seem like you're keeping it together."

"When Lori died, Rick went nuts. But he didn't go off the deep end like he did with Carl. He wasn't the way he is now. Frankly, Negan, I'm… I'm scared of him. He's ripped someone's throat out with his _teeth_. I don't know what else he's capable of. The Saviors Jesus took at the satellite station… Rick promised 'em sanctuary, promised 'em mercy, and then he _killed 'em._ "

"He broke his word," I say, but Clary doesn't seem to hear me. She's too lost in her own mind.

"But it wasn't all of 'em, though. No. The ones he killed, they had escaped while we were dealing with the walkers. Our own people, dying and turning 'cause of contaminated knives. Which, despite what it cost me, was a _brilliant_ move. The Saviors that ran, Rick dragged me with him after 'em. And Alden, he pleaded with Rick not to kill 'em, to bring 'em back. Rick said he wouldn't kill 'em. We tracked 'em to the dive bar Alden told us about, and walkers found us. They cut us free to help fight, and Rick _killed 'em all._ I didn't want to kill. I can't kill anymore. One of your men attacked me, so I cut him and hoped he'd still be alive so I could get him help after, and I hid under the bar. I hid from Rick. And then I watched him kill the people I wanted to save. Even if they were your men, they were still human."

Clary chokes back a sob, surprising me. _Holy shit, she's really not faking it. She's terrified of him. She's turned on him._

"Clary," I say, a great deal softer than how I normally speak. "Look at me." I get up, moving to sit in the chair beside hers. "Clary, kid, look at me." Clary lifts her head, wiping her eyes. "Hey. Tell me what you want."

"I want it to be over," she whispers. "I want this war to end. I don't want to die, but if I do, I want you to make sure that Aaron, Daryl, and Jesus survive. Don't let your men kill them. _Please."_ She sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And… and..."

She's having trouble getting her words out now. "Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, kid. Focus on me." Clary swallows her sobs, getting them under control as she wipes her eyes. I ask, "Do you want me to kill Rick?"

"I don't want anyone else to die, but if you have to kill Rick so no one else dies, then yes." Clary's hand goes to the twenty-two pendant that hangs around her neck. Her grey eyes, misty with tears, bore into mine. "Negan, I want Rick Grimes dead."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

Simon and I are waiting for Negan as he exits the conference room, Clary still inside. Negan closes the door behind him, leaning against the wall. "Jesus H. Christ," Negan sighs, rubbing his face. "I pity the poor kid. She's terrified. Completely scared to death of Rick. Whatever she saw him do, it broke her. She's completely out of the fight."

"So now's when we do it," Simon says.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Kill her. She's the Orphan. She's powerful. And she was dumb enough to come in here, unarmed. It'd be fish in a barrel!"

"She's a _kid!"_ I object. "We can't kill her! And if we did, her brother would lead their people and they would kill every last one of us for what we did!"

"So we throw her to the wolves. Let her get bit and drop her on the Hilltop's doorstep just before the fever takes her. Or kill her on Hilltop's doorstep!"

"Simon, what the hell—"

"No," Negan interrupts. "No. She will not be harmed. Nobody touches her."

"But you said it yourself!" Simon objects. "'We kill the right people in the wrongest way possible.'"

"And I said _nobody touches her!"_ Negan shouted. I take a step back. It's not often Negan loses his cool to that extent, and over Clary, of all topics. Negan lowered his voice, growling, " _Nobody_ touches the Orphan. She's just a damn kid. Do you understand me, Simon?"

"Yes, sir," Simon grumbles, not happy about Negan's latest orders. He stalks off, and Negan sighs. He says, "It's late. I'm going back to bed. D, I want you to put someone on her all night. I know it's short notice, but if it's all you can manage, at least keep a guard posted by the door. Do whatever it takes to keep her safe. She may come down to being what wins this war."

"You got it," I affirm. Negan leaves for the night, and I whistle to two of my guys, bringing them over. "Jason, you've got the first shift. No one comes in this room without my say, alright? Just me, you two, and Negan. That's it. Nate, take over in a couple hours. You two figure out how you want to divide your shifts."

I leave them, walking inside the conference room. I close the door behind me, but Clary doesn't even turn to look at me. She's curled up in a chair, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. Clary's already small, but this makes her look even tinier. I can't help but pity her; she was once so strong and now she's just this terrified child.

I lean against the table in front of her, looking down at my hands. I glance up at her, asking, "You want to talk about it?" Clary shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

Clary lets out a sob, bowing her head. I place my hand on her shoulder, taking great care not to startle her into thinking I mean to harm her. Instead, she latches onto me. She wraps her arms around my waist, her head against my chest.

For a long few minutes, I don't move. I don't know what the fuck to do. I'm not used to this, having a scared kid that's fighting battles that are much, much bigger than she is clinging to me. _A kid,_ I think to myself. _She's a fucking kid on the front lines of a revolution. Wars don't need to be fought by kids, especially when it costs them everything._

So I just hold her, arms wrapped tightly around her, because what do kids do when they're scared? They look to an adult for help, to make it right, to make them feel safe.

So I just hold her, hoping that by caging her against my chest, that I'm making her feel at least a little safer. "Listen to me," I whisper to her. "Clary, listen. Simon's planning a coup against Negan. He's acting tomorrow, and it might be the end of Negan. If he succeeds, Simon _will_ kill you. Negan's already had to stop him once. We gotta get you out."

"No, no, no!" Clary rushes, clutching me tighter. "No, I can't go back! Rick—he–he'll—"

I hiss, "Simon will do the same or _worse!"_

"You can stop Simon, but Rick can't be stopped!"

"Rick doesn't know that you're here, what you're doing. But Simon? Simon wants you dead. He knows who you are, what you've done in the past, and he wants to kill you."

"If he does," Clary whispers, "bring my body to Hilltop, alright? And… and Daryl will wanna kill you, but you tell him what happened. You tell him that I went out for the same reason Merle did. He'll understand then."

"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna let you die," I promise her, leaning down to look at her. "You _can't_ die. If you do, it's _over_. No one will survive this war. Do you have any weapons?"

"I left my gun and crossbow back at Hilltop. I gave them my knife, but they didn't search me." Clary bends down, pulling a switchblade out of her boot. "I still have Merle's old switch."

"Keep it on you _at all times,_ " I order. "Alright? And put it some place where it's easy for you to grab it. If Simon comes after you, you fight like hell. You don't stop. You kill that son of a bitch, you hear me? You kill him and you get back to your family."

"D, I don't even know where in the hell my family is, let alone if they're still alive."

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

"Is he dead?"

On the inside, yes. I'm so starved and dehydrated that I'm probably pretty close physically, too.

I open my eyes, the cool rain quickly waking me. I lift my head to find myself surrounded by the women of Oceanside. I push myself up onto my elbows, staring them down despite being on the ground below all of them.

"You blamed Enid," I say, "for Natania's death. But it's really the Saviors. What they did to you, what they turned you into… it's their fault. You hide. You don't trust. You don't live the life the way you want to because of them. They hurt you, and they're gonna keep on hurting you. Unless you do one thing! Fight!"

I collapse onto my back, unable to support myself any longer.

The Oceanside looks to Cyndie.

Cyndie shares a look with Beatrice, then gives a nod. She orders, "Get him up. Bring him with us."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

Negan's door swings open before I even finish knocking. I lower my fist, telling him, "I hope I didn't wake you."

Negan shakes his head. "No, I'm still awake. What do you need, D?"

"Can I come in, sir?" I request. Negan steps aside, holding open his door, and gestures to one of his chairs. I take a seat, Negan sitting opposite of me on the couch. "I talked to Clary, just to let her know that I was keeping some of my guys posted outside the door."

"How's she doing?"

"With what?" I ask. "She's losing her family, her home. She's been on the front lines of this revolution since they started it. She's a fucking kid."

"I know," Negan says after a moment. "What the hell happened to this world that kids have become soldiers?"

"What the hell happened that made her come here?"

"Rick," Negan answers. "She's scared of Rick."

"She's terrified of Simon, too," I say. "That's actually why I'm here. We need to talk about Simon."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Dwight kept one of his men posted outside the conference room at all times, not trusting any of the Saviors. He knew that Simon would be willing to bribe one of the Saviors into killing me, so he kept the ones that he knew couldn't be bought with me.

It's midday when the door to the conference room opens. Nate, the Savior currently on guard duty, leans inside. He asks, "Are you hungry? Negan brought you lunch."

I start to object, "Oh, I–I–I–I can't—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," comes Negan's voice. Nate pushes the door open wider, allowing Negan to enter before closing it again. I stare up at Negan, asking, "Why? We're enemies."

"We're allies now," Negan corrects. He puts the tray down in front of me, consisting of a sandwich, an apple, a bottle of water, and a—

"It's the last chocolate one," Negan says, gesturing to the pudding cup as he sits in a chair to my right. "I hoped you liked chocolate. I figured with everything you've been going through, you could use a little pick-me-up."

"So it's pity?" I guess, and Negan looks down, not wanting to admit that he feels pity for the Orphan. "Negan." He looks up at me. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, kid," Negan says.

I pick up the pudding, staring at it. I can't help but smile, reminiscing. "Carl _loved_ chocolate pudding," I say, then glance at Negan. "I watched him eat an entire 112 ounce can once, minus the few spoonfuls I ate. We were kids then—for just that moment, at least. Chocolate pudding didn't change the fact that we had both killed by then."

"How many?" Negan questions as I take a bite of the sandwich. "How many people have you killed? How many people has Rick made you kill?"

"I don't know," I admit, putting down my sandwich and pushing the tray away, no longer hungry. "It was sixteen when we got to Alexandria, but you know that. It was fifty-three when Eric died. When Simon hit us the other night, I didn't count. I don't know how many it was, but I do know that half the people I've killed have been Saviors. The, uh, the night we hit the satellite station, I killed fourteen. I was the one that burnt your men alive on the kill floor. I used gasoline and a cigarette."

"You're one resourceful little spitfuck, aren't you?" Negan sighs, sitting back in his chair. "The ones you killed—Paula, Donnie, the other ones you burnt—they all got what was coming to them. The ones at the satellite outpost, they couldn't follow a command to save their life. It's what cost 'em theirs in the end."

"Would you say that about Alden?"

"You know Alden?" I nod. "Of course. He went to the satellite outpost to build the fence, and they were the ones your people took. He grew on you, didn't he?"

I'm a bit more hesitant this time, but I nod again. "He saved my life. Twice. He's smart, a charmer. He's got a big heart."

"Look, kid, I'm in charge of a lot of people. I don't know all of them all that well, but I can tell you that everything that you just said about him's true. Alden's one of the good ones. He's not a dipshit like the ones that get sent to that outpost. He volunteered to go, to head the team building the fence because he wanted to keep his people safe."

"They're not his people anymore," I object, a tad harsher than I mean to. "Sorry. But... Alden's not a Savior anymore."

"You won him over."

"Well, it was my good looks that did it, obviously."

Negan laughs. "Oh, I like you, tiger." He stands, sliding the lunch tray back towards me. "Eat, kid. Keep your strength up. If you want to get out of this room for a while, just tell Nate. He'll walk with you, keep you safe. And tiger?"

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Don't worry about Simon. I'm taking care of it."

* * *

I lean forward, folding my arms against the railing as my legs dangle over the edge. I watch the Saviors on the factory floor below, going about their day to day life. Behind me, I hear the sounds of a quiet conversation. I rest my chin on my arm, watching someone sit down next to me out of the corner of my eye as Nate walks away. Dwight leans back against the railing, fiddling with the flask in his hands. "So this is the life of the Saviors," I say. "Huh. Not as glorious as I thought. Or dastardly."

"What, did you think Negan just sits around, rubbing his hands together and muttering 'Rick' disdainfully all day?" Dwight deadpans.

"Of course not! I'm not stupid, D," I return, glaring at him before I crack a grin. "He pets one of those hairless cats while muttering 'Rick.'"

Dwight lets out a chuckle, taking a swig from his flask. He offers it to me, and I'm never one to pass up a drink. I take it, taking a long drink. "I meant to ask you earlier," Dwight says, keeping his voice quiet so no one overhears us. "I didn't get a chance to. How's Tara? Is she okay?"

I nod. "She's alright. Your arrow was clean, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Simon was going after her. He would've killed her, and I owe her, so I did what I could." Dwight sighs, glancing at his watch. "It's almost time for Simon's plan."

"He knows?" I question, taking another drink.

"Who?"

I glance towards Dwight. "You know who."

"He knows," Dwight confirms.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess. No matter what, I think someone is going to die today."

"I hope it ain't you," I whisper, taking another drink.

I don't look at Dwight, but I can see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye.

"I thought you hated me," he says, glancing up as a Savior passes. "After shooting you, your brother. And torturing him."

I glance over my shoulder, making sure we're alone again. "We've been over this. I don't hate you. In fact, I trust you." I drink again. "I trust you more than I trust Rick."

"Wow," Dwight says, blinking in surprise. "You trust the Savior that shot you more than your leader."

"Rick's not a leader. He's a liar and a killer. I mean, we've all killed now, but there's a line between having killed and being a killer. He's too far gone past it. Rick's done things that make Negan look like a saint. I'm a lot more scared of Rick Grimes than I am of Negan." I make sure no one's listening before I whisper, "And you're not a Savior."

"No, I am not," Dwight replies. "I'm with you, remember?"

"Yeah," I drawl, handing Dwight's flask over as he gets to his feet.

Dwight goes to take a drink, then lowers it with a defeated sigh. "You drained my flask."

"I've had a hell of a rough week," I say.

"That you have," Dwight agrees, clasping my shoulder. "I'm sorry. For all that you've lost."

"We're sorry an awful lot these days."

"Unfortunately, we are," Dwight agrees, releasing my shoulder and starting to walk away.

"Hey," I call. I turn, pulling my legs up as Dwight pauses. "Good luck, D. You're gonna need it."

"What I need," Dwight teases, "is a drink. But _somebody_ drank mine."

"You offered it," I retort. "Maybe I should've saved you some. You're about to do something pretty stupid."

He looks down at his watch. "It's time."

Dwight whistles to Nate, signally for him to return to guarding me. I turn back to the factory floor below, promising, "You make it out of this, I'll owe you a drink, D."

"Dix," Dwight says, and I turn back to him. He tosses his flask to me, and I catch it. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

I give him a small grin, tucking the flask in my jacket. "I'll see you around, D."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

I leave Clary inside with Nate, walking outside and lighting a cigarette as I stand at the dumpster, waiting for Simon and his group. I shift on my feet, never straying more than a foot from the spot Negan had me put my cigarette out yesterday. I don't turn as the door opens, and I let out a small sigh as I hear Gary's voice. _Of course, he's in on this,_ I think as he says, "Some shit, huh?"

I turn to face him as he approaches, Simon and Gary in the lead. Gregory trails behind them. "Yeah," I agree.

"Gotta think you wanted this before we did."

I don't respond. Simon steps forward, standing toe to toe. He looks down at me for a moment, then nods.

"If you're here right now," he says, then turns to face everyone else, "you're in. We can talk about approaches and finesses, but you are in. No take backs. We need to make this quick, quiet, and respectful. Man's done a lot for us. We owe him that much, and he deserves it." Simon turns to me. "You have some legitimate personal issues with the man. The kill is yours if you want it. Something quiet. I mean, not a knife. Can't make it _that_ personal. A silencer. Dwight?"

"I'll think about it," I say, but I won't.

"We'll call a meeting," Simon continues. "And that's it. The next order of business is to set the break, to start the healing. The catalyzing event to facilitate that is the destruction of Hilltop and its residents, but not before we make them watch as we kill the Orphan right on their doorstep. Sorry, Dwight, I know you like her. We'll make it a monument of compliance for Hilltop. Sorry, Gregory."

 _He's not sorry._

"Then, we get on with our lives. Right, Dwight?"

 _No time like the present, huh?_

I whistle. It's his whistle. For a second, I don't get a response.

 _Where is he? Where is he? Come on, Negan!_

The whistling starts.

 _There he is._

Negan emerges from where he had been standing, hidden behind the dumpster. Negan claps my shoulder, saying, "Thank you, D. I'll take it from here." He shouts, "Nate!"

The door swings open, Nate emerging with a somewhat panicking Clary. _Oh, fuck, what's he doing? What angle is he playing? Just leave her alone already! She's a kid!_

Negan calls, "Clary, dear, will you count for me? Down from three, if you will." Okay, she can't get hurt counting, can she? Clary looks a little confused, glancing between Negan and I. I give her a nod, and she starts to walk down the stairs. "Stay where you are, kid."

So Clary remains where she is on the steps, calling out, "Three… two… one…"

At one, silent bullets are fired into all of Simon's men, with the exception of Gregory and Simon himself. Clary squeaks in surprise, covering her mouth with her hands, as Nate steps forward to defend her, unsure of what happened. Arat, D.J., and Norris emerge from behind a van, weapons aimed at Simon and Gregory.

"Nate, you're relieved of your duty," Negan says. "Clary, dear, come down here with me and Dwighty boy."

Nate walks back inside with a nod, and Clary joins Negan and I, standing between us. She glances down at Gary's body, saying, "I wanted him."

"What was that?" Negan questions.

"Gary. He was on my list. He nearly killed my dad, and I said I'd kill him for it."

Negan glances at Clary as Arat and her crew reach us, Arat taking Simon's weapons. "You gave the order," Negan says. "It counts. You got him, kid, and you got a little taste of the boss man's power."

Enraged at the deaths of his men, Simon charges towards us. I don't know if he's going after Clary because of who she is and how Negan let her give the kill order, or if he's going after me because I sold him out to Negan. Either way, I grab Clary and pull her back with me. D.J. and Arat lunge forward at the same time, subduing Simon.

"You alright?" I ask Clary, not releasing her arms quite yet as we take a few steps forward in case I have to pull her back again. Clary gives me a small nod.

Negan chuckles, watching as Simon struggles. "Now there is the Simon I know! He comes right at you instead of the backstabby bullshit."

Simon is fuming; if he were a dog, Cujo would be running from him with his tail between his legs. I push Clary behind me, using one arm to separate her from Simon. She sticks close to me, grabbing the back of my shirt with one hand.

"Why?" Simon demands. "After everything he did to you, huh? Why do this?"

"He'd win," I simply say.

"You killed all the garbage people, Simon," Negan chastises, turning and bringing Lucille down on Gary's head, preventing him from reanimating. "After I specifically told you not to do that shit." Negan brings his bat down on the head of the next dead body. "But… after all this… and me being me… I'm still gonna give you your shot. You wanna _be_ the man, you gotta _beat_ the man. If you can do that, then hell, you should _be_ the man."

I turn my head just enough to look at Clary, whispering, "Stay close to me."

* * *

Clary remains at my side, her hand hovering above her hidden switchblade. I put my hand over hers, looking down at her as I quietly promise, "You'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Everyone!" Simon calls, forcing all attention to him as he stands in the middle of the ring of Saviors, Negan opposite him. "After this is done, we get to work." He walks around the perimeter as he speaks, and I drop my hand from Clary's as he nears, sneering. He stops in front of her, lip curled in revolt as he looks down at her. "And we start by killing her. We make her people watch as we kill their beloved Orphan right in front of them!"

I take half a step, putting myself in front of Clary. I lift my chin, ready to face off with Simon if I have to. I make my choice clear. I choose Clary over Simon. The Saviors all know that Negan's always respected her. They know she's here now, maybe with us. They watch me side with her, they watch Negan respect her, and they watch Simon want to kill her. It'll be a no brainer for the rest of the Saviors when it comes to the Orphan.

If Simon wins.

"You still gotta beat me first, Simon," Negan says.

Simon nods, turning back to the rest of the Saviors. "Just know that I didn't want this. But the Sanctuary must stand. This is not the man to prosecute this conflict. Just wanted to say, a grateful enclave—"

Simon cuts himself off as he spins and throws the first punch, knocking Negan to the ground. He pulls Negan back to his feet, throwing another punch. Negan stumbles, but he doesn't fall. Simon charges him, but Negan's ready. Simon tries to tackle him, but Negan drives his elbow down onto Simon's back, shoving him back. They trade punches, back and forth, back and forth. It's touch and go, both sides looking like they stand a chance. I don't know who will win, but I do know that both Clary and I are dead if Simon wins.

Simon knocks Negan on his back, and it's then that I decide to get them out. Gregory's already backing away from the fight, so I grab Clary's hand, pulling her with me after him. I take Gregory's arm, escorting them far enough away so we won't be heard talking. I hiss, "You need to get out of here, now."

"No shit," Gregory returns.

I take the map I had copied earlier out of my pocket, pressing it into Clary's hands. "Get this to Rick and the others," I tell her. "Tell them about tomorrow. It's the only move we have left." I hand her a set of keys. "I left a car for you two behind the coal chutes. Go."

Gregory slips away, and Clary starts to follow. I catch her arm before she can go, stopping her. I whisper to her, "Be careful with him. He's a coward and dangerous because of it. Watch your back." Clary gives me a quick nod. "Now, go!"

"If Simon wins, you gotta get out," Clary rushes. "You run, D. We'll be at the angel statue. We'll give you an hour."

"If Simon wins, I'll see you there," I tell her. "But don't you dare wait any longer! Go!"

Clary takes off after Gregory, and I quickly return back to the fight, hoping nobody noticed that I left. No one even spares me a glance when I return, too engrossed in the fight. Negan now has Simon on the floor below him, his hands wrapped around Simon's neck, slowly choking the life out of him.

"You went for it all at the Hilltop," Negan says. "You got Saviors killed, and then you ran away like a coward! You got shown up one too many times. Those people, they are always gonna know that there's a loophole, a way to skate. They are always gonna be looking for that chance to push back, so now I gotta kill all of 'em just like I'm gonna kill you!"

I can hear Simon's windpipe cracking from where I stand at the outer edge of the circle.

Negan stands, bleeding from cuts on his cheekbone and above his eyebrow. Simon's body remains on the floor, windpipe crushed. I close my eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. Simon's dead; one less threat to the rest of us. _Just go, Clary. Don't wait for me._

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Jesus, Maggie, and Dianne rush to meet me as I walk Gregory towards the pen, empty now thanks to Rick and Morgan. Jesus asks, "Where the hell have you been? And why are you with Gregory?"

"I went to the Sanctuary," I admit. "It was the only way. I had to…" I pause for a moment, glancing away before looking back to them as I lie, "I had to try and meet with Dwight. I got this information. I ran into Gregory on the way out. That's where he ran after Henry opened the pen. I figured he should come back and rot here."

"Is that true?" Maggie questions, looking at Gregory. "You went to the Sanctuary?"

Gregory knows that I'm lying through my teeth about why I went, about how we got out; but he's too scared of me to do anything, especially after I threatened him on the way here. He simply nods, and Maggie nods to Dianne. Dianne takes Gregory's arm, escorting him to the pen and locking him in, the only prisoner.

"You said you had information," Jesus recalls, looking away from Gregory.

"Yeah, delivery from the dog," I say, passing the map to Maggie. Everyone gives me a look of confusion. "The Hound, from _Game of Thrones_ , with the burnt face? I meant Dwight."

Maggie glances down at the map, then towards Gregory, who is still within hearing distance. She says, "Let's talk somewhere else."

We walk towards the workers' stalls, meeting up with Rick and Michonne. She hands the map to Rick, allowing him to look over it. Maggie asks, "What do we do?"

I take the map, looking down at Dwight's message. _Tomorrow afternoon—Negan and ten men at the X. Other 11 person teams at each of the circles. End Negan, end the rest. End this._

I echo, "We end this."


	17. 16: The World Turned Upside Down

**Chapter 16: The World Turned Upside Down**

 _ **~Clary~**_

 _This is it,_ I think as I stand on the balcony of Barrington, leaning against the railing. I watch the people below, a mixture of Hilltop natives and refugees from Alexandria and the Kingdom. All of us, though, we're fighters; all on one side in this war against the Saviors.

I meet Jesus's eyes as he looks up at me from the ground, and I call, "Can you come up? We need to talk." Jesus nods, and I jump back in surprise when he climbs up the side and over the bannister. "Damn, okay."

"It's faster," Jesus says with a shrug. He looks down at me as he leans against the railing beside me. "Everything okay?"

"You want my answer or the truth?" Jesus gives me a look. "I think it's the final battle, Paul, and I always knew I wouldn't walk away from the final battle. I don't think I'm going to survive this. That's why I wanted to talk."

"You wanted me to tell you that you'll make it through." I shake my head. "Then, what do you want?"

"I wanted to tell you that _you_ will make it through. I want you to promise me that you will, damn any and every consequence. You survive, no matter what."

"Clary…"

"Please. Promise me."

"I'll promise if you promise. I'll survive if you promise to survive."

"You know I can't do that, Paul."

"Promise me, Cheyenne."

"You still follow me, yes? Despite all of the other leaders—Maggie, Ezekiel, Rick—you're my right hand. You'll still listen to what I have to say over them?"

Jesus pauses for a moment, like he doesn't understand why I'd have to ask that. "Of course."

"Then it's an order," I say. "As your leader, I'm ordering you to survive. Understand?"

Jesus looks away, out over the Hilltop; and when he looks back at me, I see tears in his eyes. His voice shakes as he says, "Yes, I understand."

"I, um, I have something for you," I say, taking a small step towards him. My hands shake as I take off the necklace I've only had off once for more than a few minutes since it was given to me. I run my fingers over the chain, coming to rest on the ring. "I want you to have this because it's time for me to let go."

"Clary…"

"Shh," I murmur, slipping the chain over his head. The ring comes to rest in the middle of Jesus's chest, and I look down at it sadly before lifting my eyes to his. "Sometimes I think that this is what kept me alive, Paul. And now, it's keeping you alive."

It's those words that cause Jesus to break like I've never seen before. I've seen him upset, a few tears falling. But I've never seen him break.

Jesus barely has his arms around me before his knees buckle, and he falls to the ground. I kneel with him, wrapping my arms around him as he sobs. I don't quite know what to do, not having expected this. I'm almost too shocked to move, only able to tuck his head under my chin as he presses his ear to my chest. One of his hands rests on my back at the opposite side of my heart, and I realize what he's doing. He's feeling for my heartbeat, listening to it.

"Paul, I'm still here," I whisper. "Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. My heart's still beating, I'm still breathing. That's what you said to me, when you got Daryl outta that place. My heart was beating then, and it is now. So just focus on that. Listen to my heartbeat."

"Please," Jesus sobs. "Please, don't go. Don't leave me."

"I'm not _trying_ to die, Paul," I whisper. "We've talked about this. You know I don't _want_ to die, but I'm willing to if it means an end to this war. But I promise you, Paul, I'll do whatever to live through it."

"And I'll promise to stay alive because I can't let you die, Clary. Especially if it means the war could end. You were there for the beginning, for all the battles. This new world, a world without the Saviors, is the one that _you_ dreamt of. You have to be there to see it." I run a hand through Jesus's hair, kissing his cheek before resting my forehead against his. "There is no new world without you. _You_ are the new world, Cheyenne Raleigh."

* * *

Jesus doesn't stray far from my side as we look over the map with the leaders of the communities and their right hands. "Alright, we'll stick to this road," Daryl says, pointing down at a road on the map. "Keep to the trees. Get there quicker. Plus, we can keep an eye on the road that way."

"Yeah, if they're planning anything, we'll see it," Rosita agrees with a nod. They got back yesterday after I did only to report that Eugene had the bullet factory up and running.

"I trust Clary's word, but can we trust Gregory?" Michonne inquires.

"We locked him up inside the house," Maggie says, nodding down to me. "He knew he wouldn't be allowed to walk around free. He knew he was coming back to that. He doesn't believe in anything except himself, and he'd have to believe in the Saviors a whole lot to send us into a trap and think it would work out for him."

"Unless Dwight didn't tell 'em. That asshole could be setting us up."

"He's not," I insist. "If you trust me, then extend that same trust to Dwight. He _wouldn't_ lie. And if he _is_ trying to send us into a trap, he wouldn't've saved my life back there just for me to die another day."

"Sometimes your blind trust saves people," Rick says as he folds the map and puts it in his pocket. "Other times, I wonder if it's gonna get us killed."

"At least I'm not the one putting us in danger," I retort.

I turn to walk away, Rick barking after me, "Hey! What the hell does that mean?!"

"You know _exactly_ what it means!" I snap. "I just wanted to live in peace! It wasn't perfect, livin' under Negan, not by a long shot. But as long as we did what he asked, no one would die and he wouldn't hurt Daryl. But you just couldn't leave shit well enough alone. Whether we win or lose today, the fighting _has_ to end, or else the dead will come for us all."

I walk away, and Carol jogs to catch up to me. She doesn't speak, and for that, I'm grateful. Then, Carol takes my arm, tugging me with her with a rushed, "Come on."

We jog to catch up to Morgan as he turns in circles, searching for something. She calls, "Morgan? Morgan, what is it?"

"They're gone," he says. "They're doing something."

"Who?" I ask. "Morgan, who's gone?"

That gate opens, revealing the small group of former Saviors that Alden took out to lure away walkers. Morgan starts towards them, the Saviors leaping aside as he raises his staff. I run forward, rushing, "Hey, hey, hey, hey! Morgan! Morgan, hey!"

I put myself between Morgan and Alden, backing up as he keeps coming. _Fool_ , I think to myself, knowing that Morgan doesn't give a shit who's between him and his target. Morgan keeps his staff raised, level with my chest. Alden grabs me, pulling me back as we try to back away from Morgan.

Henry steps in, using his staff to knock Morgan's up and away before he touches me. Morgan spins, knocking Henry to the ground and aiming the pointed end at the young boy, who looks up at him with wide, fear-filled eyes. Despite being terrified of Morgan myself, I pull my gun on him, warning, "Back the hell off."

Carol intervenes, Morgan taking a step back as she confiscates his staff.

Morgan looks around at every that has gathered to watch, saying, "They were, uh… they were gone." Morgan points at Alden. "Him."

Alden releases me when he realizes he's still holding on, dropping his hands and taking a step back, whispering, "Sorry."

"They were coming in."

"I asked Maggie if we could clear the walkers from the walls," Alden explains. "We drew them away so we wouldn't have to worry about 'em when we rolled out."

"He did," Maggie says.

"Let's keep getting ready, everyone," Rick calls, drawing all of the attention to him. "First team's going in twenty."

"He said when _we_ roll out," Maggie sneers, turning to Alden. She treats Alden a bit better than the rest of the Saviors, but she still hates him nonetheless. The fact that he's defected doesn't make much of a difference to her. "You and your _people_ aren't coming. You can be here. But you're _not us."_

Maggie turns and walks away to continue preparations with Rick. Alden remarks, "As long as we got that straight."

He starts to lead the former Saviors into Hilltop, but I catch his arm, the rest continuing on. "Hey, Point Break," I say. "Remember the sheep?" Alden nods once. "They'll see, okay? They don't yet, but they _will_ see. And if they don't, I'll make 'em."

Alden gives me a small, soft smile. "Thank you."

I release his arm, clapping his shoulder. "Alright, now get goin', pretty boy. We got a war to finish ."

* * *

A team of Saviors sets up a roadblock, just where Dwight said they'd be, according to the map. We watch them through the woods, Carol passing her binoculars to Rosita. As Rosita watches, Carol turns around and gives us the okay.

Rick, Daryl, Carol, Rosita, and Morgan open fire on the Saviors. They drop to the ground, dead. We move in, sweeping the area for any remaining Saviors. We drive our knives into the heads of the dead Saviors before they turn and kill the walkers they have in the roadblock. I round the front of a car, my gun up, as Morgan goes around the trunk. A Savior is there on his knees, hands raised in surrender as he begs for his life. Morgan raises his staff, and I cry, "No, don't!"

Morgan doesn't listen, killing the Savior anyway. He stabs him with the pointed end of his staff, then slits his throat. Jesus rushes over upon hearing my cry, taking my arm and pulling me behind him, as he knows what Morgan has done in the past. Jesus raises a hand, moving to rest it on Morgan's shoulder. I latch onto Jesus's arm, trying to pull him away from Morgan. Jesus glances over his shoulder at me, assuring me, "It's alright."

He rests his hand on Morgan's shoulder, questioning, "Morgan, are you with us?"

Morgan tears his gaze away from nothing in the distance, and Jesus glances over his shoulder, trying to find what Morgan was staring at. Morgan turns and walks away, never answering Jesus's question. Jesus turns to me, brushing my hair back with one hand as he asks, "Hey, you okay?"

"He—he—he surrendered," I reply. "Paul, he surrendered and he pleaded for his life. Morgan murdered him."

"I know you've stopped killing," Jesus says. "Alden and Dianne told me what you told them."

"He knows," Carl's ghost whispers in my ear.

"What do you know?" I ask.

"About how you've stopped killing because you stopped counting. Alden was worried about you, especially after you took off the other night. He told me what happened when you were out burying the Saviors, what you said."

"What _exactly_ did he tell you?"

"Are you hiding something?" Jesus asks, pulling me to the side of the road so the others don't eavesdrop. "Clary, I… I know about Carl, if that's what you're asking. I understand it, I do. Losing someone you love. But if you tried to die for Alden just to… to be with Carl, then… Clary, maybe you shouldn't be out here."

"I have to, Jesus. I can't give up when we're this close."

"Good people, we found something on our quarry," Ezekiel says, ending my conversation with Jesus.

As we start over to join him, I take Jesus's arm, whispering, "I would prefer it if no one else knew, Paul."

"Of course," Jesus says with a nod. We join Ezekiel as he unfolds another map, Michonne asking, "What is it?"

"A list and another map," Ezekiel answers, reading it. "And what appear to be other facts."

Rick takes it, reporting, "They're lining up Saviors on the Old Mill Road. That's where Negan will be."

"We have to get to Negan before they figure out what happened here," Carol declares.

"Clary, the walkie," Rick requests, and I pass it over to him. "Maggie."

"I'm here," she says.

"It's time. It was a trap. So we're changing the plan." Rick passes the walkie back to me, scolding me, "It's your blind trust that wanted the rest of us to put our faith in Dwight, in a _Savior._ Look where you've gotten us."

I bow my head as Rick passes, unable to meet his eyes. I want to protest, but I can't. I really did trust Dwight. I really did have faith in him. I really, truly believed him.

And look where it got me.

* * *

We meet up with Maggie's crew, continuing on the course she and Rick worked out in case it was a trap. I walk with Ezekiel, admitting to him, "I didn't know."

"Hmm?" Ezekiel questions, glancing down at me.

"I didn't know," I repeat. "All of D's intel, it checked out. There was no reason this shouldn't. And then, it turns out that he gives _me_ —the one who has put the most faith in him, of all people—the trap to end the revolution."

Ezekiel tells me, "I believe that sometimes everyone, including yourself, forgets that you're a child that can fall prey to naivety."

"I'm not a child, Ezekiel. I'm seventeen, and living in this world, there are no children."

"You're a child," Ezekiel repeats, "living in a world where there are no children. Embrace the contradiction, dear Cheyenne. It's what I did."

"Hey, I, uh, I'm sorry about Shiva, by the way." Ezekiel nods his acknowledgement, and everyone slows to a stop around us. I look around for what's causing us to stop, pushing to the front of the group as they all turn to look. I freeze when I see the herd, whispering, "Oh, my god."

"Jesus," Rosita sighs.

"Holy damn," Jerry says. "You ever see one that big?"

"No," Rick says. "Things are changing. Let's go."

"How much further?" Daryl questions.

"We grow closer," Ezekiel says. "Yonder, over the ridge."

"Let's move," I say, turning and continuing to walk next to Ezekiel. "I don't wanna stay here too long with that herd that close."

* * *

 _ **~Tara~**_

Kal did his job, warning us of the approaching Saviors. We get everyone out and into the woods surrounding the Hilltop. I lead the way, pausing at the edge of the woods to usher everyone in, making sure no one gets left behind. Enid carries a crying Gracie, rocking her as she tries to shush her.

Kal looks around, asking, "Is Gregory already out here?"

"We left him inside the house," Enid tells him. "Let them have him."

"Keep going," I order. "To the rendezvous point. The others should already be there."

To his Saviors, Alden calls, "Hold up!"

"What's going on?" Enid questions.

"I'm gonna try and slow them down," I say. "Go, Enid."

"What, just you?" Alden questions.

"Look, they can hear her. They can hear her in New Jersey."

"I don't know about Jersey, but I'm not lettin' you do this by yourself."

"You think I'm gonna give you a gun?"

"I'm gonna stay one way or another." He turns to his fellow defectors. "Any of you gents with me?" I turn, finding that all of the Saviors that defected have come back while the residents of the Hilltop continue to the rendezvous point. "'Cause I'm with her. Even if she's not with us."

I throw the bag of guns down at Alden's feet, telling him, "I can see why Clary accepted you."

"We're sheep, just like the rest of you," Alden says, kneeling as he begins passing out guns to the defectors. "You just see us wearing the wolf's clothing."

Alden arms his fellow defected Saviors, and we line up at the edge of the woods, waiting for the Saviors to emerge from the Hilltop to search for us. Finally, we see them round the corner of the wall. They don't see us, but they're heading in our direction. I whisper, "Give it another second. Let 'em come closer."

But we never have to fire.

There's a series of explosions as the Saviors get closer to us, burning all of them to death. The former Saviors follow behind me as we emerge from the woods, and I realize that the Oceanside has come to our rescue. I see Aaron speaking with Cyndie, thanking her for her help with the Saviors. "Aaron, Cyndie!" I call.

They both turn, grinning when they see me. I flip Rachel off as I pass her, continuing the tradition. I pull Aaron into a hug, telling him, "Oh, it's about time you got back."

"Well, I _was_ getting more allies," he replies. "Where's my daughter?"

"You have a child?" Beatrice questions, having wandered over when she saw me. "If I had known, we wouldn't have left you out there, or at least given you something so you'd have a chance to make it back to her. How old is she?"

"You've met my daughter," Aaron replies. "Clary, remember? Tied you up once?"

" _That's_ your daughter? She's what, seventeen?"

"She's not my daughter by blood," Aaron informs her. "Negan took her brother, and I took her in. She's mine, though. Just because we don't share blood doesn't change that." Aaron looks back to me. "Where is she?"

"Fighting," I answer. "She's ending this."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

We exit the treeline, walking into an open field surrounded by hills. My heart stops in my chest when I hear the whistling. Jesus has been walking beside me, and I grab his hand. We all aim our guns, but we can't pinpoint which side the whistling is coming from. Jesus and I go back to back as Negan's voice booms over a sound system, surrounding us.

"Well, damn, Rick," he says. "Look at that. You are pegged again. Pegged so very hard. I ambushed your ambush with an _even bigger_ ambush!"

"How about you step out and face us?" Rick shouts.

"Oh, I am everywhere, Rick. Some more bullhorns, more walkies. Pick a direction to run. See how you do. Make it fun for all of us. Guess what else I did. I brought you some of your old friends. You remember you old buddy Eugene? He is the person that made today possible."

"Well, fuck him!" I shout.

Negan chuckles. "You got that same attitude, Little Orphan Annie, for Dwighty boy here?"

I pale, knowing that Negan caught him, as I whisper, " _No."_

"No response?" Negan questions. "Huh. I would've thought for _sure_ that the Orphan would try to save her spy. You hear that, Dwighty boy? There's nothing for you. In case you're wondering, he didn't sell you out on purpose. No, he is just a gutless nothing that sucks at life. And now, he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, and he's gonna live with that. Gabriel, well, he's gotta go, too. We are cleaning house today, Rick. And then… there's you."

 _Please, Negan,_ I silently beg. _Please don't let them know._

"It never had to be a fight. You just had to accept how things are. So… here we go. Congratulations, Rick. Three! Two!" Saviors appear over the crests of the hills, surrounding us on every side. "One!"

The Saviors fire, but their bullets don't reach us. Instead, the majority of them drop to the ground or drop their weapons.

"What the hell?" I ask.

"Talk about a backfire," Carl quips.

I hiss, "Shut up, Cowboy."

Jesus glances over at me as everyone else looks at each other, equally confused as to what just happened to the Saviors. Rick siezes the moment, shouting, "Now!"

We split off, charging up the hills to battle the Saviors. Jesus gives me a small smile as he sees me knocking Saviors out rather than shooting them, adopting his code of not killing. We kneel over a Savior together, tying his hands behind his back. "Morgan!" Jesus calls.

Morgan knocks a Savior that's rushing us to the ground, spinning his staff to stab him. Jesus says, "Morgan, you don't have to."

Instead, Morgan uses the blunt end to knock the Savior out. Jesus smiles now that he's got another person to stop killing. Morgan turns before he can say anything, marching on into the battle. I see him heading for Dwight, who takes cover beside a car. I whisper, "Oh no."

I scramble to my feet, running to reach Morgan before he reaches Dwight. I tackle Morgan away from Dwight with a shout, his staff rolling out of reach. We roll, trading punches, until Morgan pins me beneath him. I fight him off as he tries to get his hands around my neck, and I snap, "We're supposed to be fighting them, not each other!"

"You're _protecting_ them!" Morgan accuses.

Dwight kicks something to me, and I wrap my hand around wood. I swing it, knocking Morgan off of me with his own bo staff. I roll onto my knee, swinging again and knocking him to the ground. I stand, aiming the pointed end of the bo staff down at him as I pant, "Dwight's… one of... us."

I throw Morgan's staff off to the side, kneeling beside Dwight as I cut him free of his bindings. I turn his head, sighing softly as I take in the cuts on the unburned side of his face. "I'm sorry."

"You know, I think I'll have that drink now," Dwight returns.

"Yeah, yeah, I owe you one," I say, shaking my head at him as I press my spare gun into his hands. "Stick with me."

Dwight stands, following me as we catch up with Maggie. We raise our guns as we approach the Saviors, but they don't retreat. Laura raises her hands first, calling, "Don't shoot. Please." She gets on her knees, hands still raises. "We're done. It's over."

Laura nods to her fellow Saviors, and they kneel, hands raised. I let out a soft laugh, lowering my gun. "It's over," I echo. "They surrendered. It's over. We've won."

"Not yet," Maggie says. "They might've surrendered, but it's not over until Negan's dead."

* * *

 _ **~Rick~**_

I chase Negan down to a tree, stained glass hanging from its branches. I fire but miss, instead shattering the glass in one window. Negan hides behind the tree as I fire again, but my gun clicks. _Fuck it. We'll do it up close and personal._

I run down, but Negan's ready for me. He hits me with Lucille, and I can feel the bat's barbed wire cutting into my side. I cry out, knocking Lucille out of his hands. I tackle him to the ground, and we roll, trading punches along the way.

Negan pushes me off of him, and I reach for another weapon of some sort. I cry out as he kicks me in the side, right where he hit me with Lucille. I drop to the ground, and he kicks me again. I roll over, wheezing as I try to catch my breath.

Negan picks up Lucille, standing above me. "Just so you know," he says, "eenie meenie miney moe, that was bullshit. I made a choice. I just didn't want to kill a kid's dad in front of him. Turns out, that would've been the best thing I could've done. Had I done it, that kid might still be alive."

I kick Negan's feet out from under him, and he goes down. We're both on our hands and knees now. Negan cradles his right hand to his chest, and I can see blood on it—he was injured when the guns malfunctioned. I press my hand against my wound, holding myself up with one hand. "You're beat," I say. "Your people are down."

"I'll get out of it," Negan replies, pushing himself up to one knee. "I always do." Negan uses Lucille to push himself to his feet, while I sit up. "It's just you and me, Rick. And you, you are torn open. I am bigger, I am badder, and I got a bat."

"We can have a future," I say, slowly reaching behind me to grab a shard of glass to use as a weapon.

"I know I will."

"Just give me ten seconds," I plead, pushing myself to my feet. "So I can tell you how."

"No."

"Just give me ten seconds for Carl."

Negan pauses for a moment. "Ten… nine…"

"Carl said that it doesn't have to be a fight anymore."

"He was wrong. Eight."

"No, no, he was right."

Negan steps towards me, bat raised; but he stops at that. We stand barely an arms' length apart now. Negan's stopped, and I find myself wondering if he's actually considering surrendering for Carl or if he's contemplating his swing.

I don't give him the chance to do either.

I slice his throat with the glass in my hand before he can move. Negan drops Lucille as he falls to his knees, pressing his hand against his bleeding throat. "Look what you did," Negan manages. "Carl didn't know a _damn thing._ "

And he topples to the ground.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Negan collapses, Rick standing victorious above him. Slowly, he turns around. Then, to Siddiq, he orders, "Save him."

"No!" Maggie cries. Michonne holds her back, Maggie choking on her tears as she screams, "No! He can't! No! He killed Glenn!"

"We have to," Rick says.

"We have to end it!"

A sob forces its way out of my throat, and I let it out as I start to collapse. Daryl catches me before I can hit the ground, sinking with me to our knees. He holds me as I cry because it's not over. Negan may be done, but there's a threat still standing. I thought that maybe I could get Rick and Negan to destroy each other, to take each other out; but only succeeded in Rick stopping Negan.

Not a goddamn thing changed.

"It's not over!" Maggie screams. "We have to make it right! It's not over until he's dead! No!"

"What happened, what we did, what we lost," Rick says, starting towards the rest of us. "There's gotta be something after. The one who have 'em up, put your hands down. We're all gonna go home now. Negan's alive, but his way of doing things is over. And anyone who can't live with that will pay the price, I promise you that. And any person here who would live in peace and fairness… who would find common ground… this world is yours, by right. We are life!" Rick turns, pointing to the massive herd in the valley below. "That's death! And it's coming for us. Unless we stand together! So go home. Then the work begins. The new world begins. All this… all this is just what was. There's gotta be something after."

* * *

Kal opens the gate for us when we return, and we're greeted by more people than the amount we left behind. A woman with short hair approaches me as those that left to fight spread out, reuniting with those left behind. I vaguely recognize her, but I'm unable to place her. "Your father is a good man," she tells me. "He risked himself just _trying_ to make a deal with the people that left him in the woods to die, just so your people would have a chance to win."

"You…" I start, then trail off, still unable to place her. Then, it hits me. "Oh my god, Beatrice! You're from Oceanside! That means—Dad!"

I take off to find Aaron, running through the Hilltop and pushing around people. "Dad!" I shout. "Dad!"

"Cheyenne!" I hear Aaron shout from the other side of the blacksmith's stall.

I round the corner, sliding in the loose dirt as I nearly crash into Jerry. I see Aaron up ahead, spinning in a circle as he tries to pinpoint where my voice came from. "Dad!"

Aaron spins on his heel, and I see the relief in his face when he sees that I'm alive and uninjured. There's a catch in his voice as he says, "Chey—Cheyenne."

"Dad!" I cry, taking off to meet him. He steps forward, and I launch myself into his arms. I'm crying as I wrap my legs around his waist, never wanting to let go. Aaron falls to his knees, sobbing as he holds me tighter. I feel the dirt press into my back as he doubles over, Aaron pressing his face into my hair. He kisses my temple as I cry, "Never do that again! Please, Dad! Don't leave me!"

"I won't," Aaron promises, sitting back on his knees. "I won't. I promise, baby. I'm never leaving you again."

* * *

 _ **~Aaron~**_

It was Clary's request, the two of us taking off like this. I don't know where we're going, letting her drive. As we wind down the roads, I begin to recognize where we are and where we're going. I don't say anything, knowing Clary has her reasons. She pulls to a stop in front of the office outpost, the place where Eric died. "Clary, why are we here?" I finally ask. "What're we doing?"

She doesn't respond, instead opening her door. I follow her out of the car; I watch as she opens the trunk to reveal an assortment of flammable liquids, including gasoline, lighter fluid, and alcohol. There's more lighter fluid and alcohol than gasoline, as the fossil fuel is a bit scarce these days.

"What the hell is this?" I ask.

Clary grabs one bottle of booze, unscrewing the lid and taking a drink before offering it to me. I take it after a moment, but I don't drink, watching as she unloads the trunk. "Clary, what _are_ we doing here?" I repeat.

Clary grabs a can of gasoline, closing the trunk as she says, "We're burning this place to the fucking ground."

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

Aaron and I start on the top floors, pouring gasoline and lighter fluid all over the outpost, working our way down to the ground floor. We split up, covering more ground. I leave the door open behind me, emptying the last of the lighter fluid by the doorway.

Aaron's sitting on the hood of the car, waiting for me. I grab the bottle of alcohol from before, hopping up on the hood beside him. I take another drink before filling the flask I still have in my jacket pocket. Aaron exclaims, "You have a flask?! Cheyenne!"

"It's Dwight's," I reply, putting the cap back on it and sticking it in my pocket. "I owe him a drink. Now where's that rag?"

Aaron passes it over to me, and I twist it into the bottle. I flip it upside down, letting the alcohol soak the rag a bit. I look at Aaron. "Want to do the honors?"

"Hand it over," he says, and I pass him the Molotov. "You light, I'll throw."

I smirk, grabbing my Zippo. I flip it open, lighting the Molotov. Aaron waits for it to catch and burn for a few seconds before he throws it, the bottle shattering when it hits the floor just inside the door. We sit on the hood of the car, watching the outpost burn. I grab the pack of cigarettes from my bag, taking one and lighting it. Aaron looks over at me as I take a drag on it. "I thought he made you quit," Aaron says.

"He did," I reply. "And I tried. I really did, Dad. I tried for Eric, but with everything that's happened? I was goin' crazy." I hold up the pack. "And D offered."

"A Savior, a bad influence on my daughter," Aaron sarcastically says. "Wow, who would've thought?"

"He's not," I say after a long moment. "Dwight ain't a Savior. He told me, that night before we lost Sasha, that he follows me. He's been done with Negan since Daryl escaped." I look over at Aaron. "You know, Jesus has been giving me hell for smoking, too."

"Good," Aaron remarks.

I sigh, throwing the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with the toe of my boot. Then, I throw the rest of the pack into the fire. I take Aaron's hand, whispering, "Carl used to give me hell, too."

Aaron wraps his arm around me. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Negan said that it was Rick's fault. Carl, that it was on Rick, 'cause he wasn't there to stop him from doin' somethin' stupid."

"You think helping Siddiq was stupid?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Siddiq's turnin' out to be okay, but that don't make up for losin' him. And not everyone out there is like Siddiq. A lot of 'em are a danger to us. We got lucky, I think, that Siddiq's a good guy. But it don't make up for it." I sigh. "This whole thing, it's all on Rick."

"How? The war, or…"

"What? No. Well, the war, that's on a lot of people, but no. I meant Carl. That day, the day before it all started, we saw him out there. Carl and I, we talked to him. I was gonna ask him the questions. Rick, the second he saw Siddiq, shot at him. Siddiq ran, but if Rick never shot at him, Carl never would've gone out after him. He never would've gotten bit."

"So, in a way, Negan _actually_ was right," Aaron says after a long minute. "Rick shooting at Siddiq caused Carl to go out after him, and he was bitten out there."

"Maybe Negan's been right all along," I propose. "I mean, I _hate_ him for what he did, for Glenn and Daryl. _But_ he was right about one thing."

"What's that?" Aaron questions.

"That I was one bad day away from being him." I reach into my pocket, pulling out the bullet casing. I hold it in my fingers, staring at it as I say, "And I had my bad day."

* * *

 _ **~Dwight~**_

I know what this is as soon as Daryl stops the truck in the middle of the woods, about two miles from the Hilltop. "Get out," he says.

I do, and I don't protest or ask questions. We walk around the truck, and I don't meet his eyes. I slowly nod, accepting it.

"I know why I'm here," I say, finally looking at him. "I know what I did to Denise. To you, to your sister. To other people. And it doesn't matter why. I knew I'd have to face it, to pay, and I should. I'm ready." I look up as I feel tears falling down my cheeks. I know I deserve to die and I've accepted that, but it doesn't make me any less scared of death. "I got to see Negan taken down, and that's enough. Me? I'm a piece of shit. There's no going back to how things were."

I fall to my knees. After all that I've done, I don't deserve to die standing. I deserve to die on my knees.

"I'm sorry," I tell Daryl, who remains silent and emotionless. "Look, I'm _so_ sorry. Please. Please."

I break down crying then, unable to contain it any longer. Daryl tells me, "Shut up."

He tosses the keys to the truck down at me, and I slowly pick them up, unable to believe that he's letting me live.

"You go," Daryl orders, "and you keep going. Don't you ever come back here again. If I ever see your face around here again, I'll kill you. You go out there and you make it right. Find her."

He puts his crossbow on his shoulder, walking away, back towards Hilltop.

"Daryl, wait," I say, sitting up on my knees and turning after him. "I just… I need you to ask you one favor. Can you tell Clary that she still owes me that drink?"

Daryl pauses for a moment before nodding and continuing back to Hilltop, allowing me to live.

* * *

 _ **~Maggie~**_

"I just wanted to say you were right," I say, looking at Jesus across from my desk. "About saving the Saviors from the satellite outpost. Having them here. I don't regret what I did. But you were right. And Rick was right about not killing all the Saviors."

"He was right," Jesus agrees.

"He was. Not about Negan."

"So what does that mean, Maggie?"

"We have a lot to do. We have to build this place up, make it work better than before, make it thrive for the people who live here. We need our strength, the ability to defend ourselves better. We have to have that."

"We will," Jesus assures me.

"But Rick and Michonne… Rick was wrong to do what he did. Michonne, too. So we're gonna bide our time and wait for our moment… and then we're gonna show him."

"Yeah," Daryl agrees, and Jesus and I turn as he steps out from the shadows. "We will."

"I… I have something I need to confess," a voice says from the shadows. The three of us turn towards Clary as she steps forward. "Something y'all need to know, if we're in this together."

"What is it?" Jesus questions.

Clary glances down. "I've played this game before, this role of a double agent. And this ain't the first time I've gone against Rick." She looks up, glancing between Daryl and I. "Shane didn't _just_ teach me to fight for my life. I was his double agent. He knew I had Rick's ear, just like I do now. He used it to his advantage. The fact that we hated each other was the perfect cover. I worked with Shane… against Rick."

"I never could've guessed that," I admit. "You and Shane were always at each other's throats. But you were with Shane that entire time, and Rick trusted you. Rick still trusts you."

"Rick knows," Daryl adds, "and he still trusts her. Let him be dumb enough to. Shane was right about one thing, and it's that Clary knows how to play both sides. She knows how to lie."

Clary crosses her arms over her chest, shifting on her feet. "I lied when I said I went to the Sanctuary for information, to find Dwight. I didn't even plan on _seeing_ him. Hell, I didn't even know if he was still _alive._ " Clary swallows before admitting, "I said that he could have Rick. I went to the Sanctuary to… to meet with Negan."

* * *

 **AN: And like all stories, this one comes to a close. The revolution has come and gone, and the world has been turned upside down. Will balance be restored, or will our heroes end up in death's other kingdom?**


End file.
